


The Arias of Home and Love

by bxckybxrns (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Child Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluffish, Homophobic Language, M/M, Past DubCon, Past Underage Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, a lot of this is just mentioned but i feel like i should put it here just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bxckybxrns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>""This isn’t going to end well," he thought. People around him started to countdown. “Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!” Bucky groaned and tried yet again to get out of the door, hoping to get the hell out before someone he didn’t even know, much less liked, kissed him. “Six! Five! Four! Three! Two!” Someone cut the lights off, or maybe it was an AI robot thing, which was more likely at Stark's, and everyone yelled, “One!” before the room exploded in cheers as fireworks sounded outside.</p><p>After a moment, the room quieted down, as people grabbed whoever was standing next to them, and everyone began to kiss. Bucky felt a sense of relief wash over him for a mere second when no one grabbed him, until of course, someone did. "</p><p>Or, the one where Bucky is kissed by a stranger at a New Year's Eve party he didn't even want to go to, and ends up reluctantly falling for the stranger, who turns out to be none other than the captain of the football team, Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this since September I think. Granted I stopped for about a month or two and came back to it, but still, I've been working on this for a while. I have about ~23k written now, so I'll try to do semi-regular updates for a while. Who knows with me.  
> Just a fyi, for now I have the rating as Teen, but it's likely to go up. But yeah, enjoy reading, and make sure to drop me a comment and tell me how you like this!!
> 
> BTW, the title is from Recitative by A.E. Stallings, though I tweaked it a bit. It's better than the working title, which was angst af high school au.

Bucky didn’t know why he let Natasha drag him along to things like this. Well, he didn't know why Natasha let Clint drag her to these things. Either way, Natasha and Clint ditched him, most likely in favor of finding an empty bedroom Stark’s mansion. To be honest, he should have expected it. In an ideal world, he was hoping to tail her the entire night. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy a good party, but Stark parties couldn't usually be classified as good parties. Not in his book, at least. They were typical teen parties, with a whole hell of a lot more of booze, drugs, and shit that Bucky couldn’t believe someone could afford. But if someone could, Stark could.

 _Fuck Stark,_ Bucky thought to himself, refusing to call the teenage millionaire by association by his first name. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was jealous. He and Stark were the same age, in most of the same classes… they were even the same height until Bucky hit a growth spurt in the eighth grade. He hated how Stark had everything. Meanwhile Bucky was seventeen, living alone in an apartment that smelt like cat piss and beer. 

He hated Natasha for bringing him here. He grumbled to himself something incoherent and pushed through the mass of bodies grinding against each other like a bunch of horny, repressed morons and made his way to the bar. He wasn’t drunk enough to be here. He’d leave, if it weren’t for the fact that Clint drove. It was too damn cold to walk home, and he knew if he hotwired Clint's car he'd hear about it from Natasha for the next month. So he ignored the idiots around him—still dry humping each other in plain sight—and made his way to the bar, which was an actual bar with an actual bartender serving actual drinks.

Home alone on New Year’s Eve wouldn’t have been any better. He would’ve just ended up drinking until he passed out and waking up with a massive hangover. At least this way he wouldn’t drink as much, and maybe he wouldn’t pass out. Even if he did, he was drinking Stark’s beer, and not his own. That made it a little better.

The room was too crowded, but every room seemed packed full of idiots from school. Bucky was pretty sure Stark had invited every single senior, and half the juniors from half the high schools around the county, and maybe that was an exaggeration, but it didn’t feel like it when people kept pushing into him. It was a wonder that he hadn't told someone to go fuck themselves yet. 

After a while, Bucky found a wall he could lean up against and hate everything from a distance. He knew that sooner or later the clock would start to count down to the New Year and everyone would kiss, and maybe, just  _maybe,_ Natasha and Clint would choose that as a pretty good stopping point. 

A few way too loud songs later, Stark managed to get everyone’s attention, but then again, he had that effect on people. The music cut off and he cleared his throat at the microphone, then stumbled a little because he was clearly drunk off his ass. Bucky couldn’t help the small laugh that came out of his mouth and the hope that entered his mind that Stark would make a fool of himself. “Hope everyone’s having a good time,” he started off, a toothy grin covering his face. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, so we’re going to do a thing.” His smile increased and Bucky rolled his eyes without even knowing what the thing he was talking about was; he wasn’t sure he even cared about what the “thing” was. “When we finish the countdown, we’re going to turn out the lights, and you’re going to grab the first person you see, and kiss them.”

Bucky rolled his eyes again, because it was a stupid idea. Probably the stupidest idea he'd ever heard in his entire life. It was like Stark was waiting for guys to scatter to find girls they found hotter than their girlfriends. In short, it was going to cause world war three. The only reason he could think that Stark had this harebrained idea was so he could find a way to kiss Pepper again, because according to Nat, they had broken up again (for the second, fourth, eighth... Bucky didn't care how many time). 

He grumbled as he started to launch himself off the wall he’d been leaning on before. He looked around to see if he could make a quick escape, but he was pretty sure by the time he made it upstairs to hide in a bathroom that the countdown would be over and someone would most likely be kissing him and—

He decided against that and looked to see if there was a way he could get outside before the lights went out so at least then he wouldn’t be forced to kiss anyone. He wasn’t in the mood to kiss anyone of these drunk idiots. He was once again reminded why he hated Natasha.

He started to walk as fast as he could through the mass of bodies—honestly, if a fire marshal knew about how many people were here, he was pretty sure not even Stark could pay them enough money to keep the party going—to the doorway that lead to the massive backyard, equipped with yet another bar, a pool, a television, and dozens of teenagers getting drunk off their asses. _Grand_.

He was almost to the door when everything stopped and he heard someone yell that it was time to start the countdown. “Shit,” he muttered aloud because  _fuck,_ he hated himself for not getting outside sooner. He knew there was no point now, not with the mix of people standing dead in their tracks or scrambling to stand next to someone they want to kiss.

 _This isn’t going to end well,_ he thought. People around him started to countdown.  _“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”_ Bucky groaned and tried yet again to get out of the door, hoping to get the hell out before someone he didn’t even know, much less liked, kissed him.  _“Six! Five! Four! Three! Two!”_ Someone cut the lights off, or maybe it was an AI robot thing, which was more likely at Stark’s, and everyone yelled,  _“One!”_ before the room exploded in cheers as fireworks sounded outside.

After a moment, the room quieted down, as people grabbed whoever was standing next to them, and everyone began to kiss. Bucky felt a sense of relief wash over him for a mere second when no one grabbed him, until of course, someone did. Suddenly, there were hands on his shoulders and lips on his lips and fuck _._ Bucky’s hands hung at his sides in an awkward motion for a moment, like it was some kind of weird first kiss, before he realized that, hell, if some guy was going to kiss him like this, he might as well make the best of it. He wrapped his hands around the guy’s neck—noting to himself that he was tall, approximately six foot, and muscular as hell—and started to kiss him back with as much passion as he would any stranger.

Bucky was ready to push whoever the guy was up against a wall. He was well accustomed to kissing guys who he didn't know, and this wasn’t any different, but then his kisser pulled away. Bucky almost leaned back in, but the lights snapped back on. Bucky expected his kisser to be in front of him, but he wasn’t. There was no one, except a mass group of teenagers either still kissing, or getting yelled at for kissing someone that wasn’t their significant other.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head to keep himself from thinking too much about the kiss and maybe try to zero in on whoever the hell kissed him. Whoever he was, he was nowhere around anymore, but Bucky didn’t think anyone could leave the premises that fast (he’d tried). Somehow, he managed to make his way outside, though the second he stepped out crowds of people swarmed around him as they watched the firework display Bucky could only guess Stark was responsible for.

He ended up giving up his search as soon as it started, realizing that it was a lost cause the second he’d started it. There was no way he could pinpoint one person he hadn’t even seen in this mass of people. Even if he did find someone that matched his description (about six feet, super buff, probably cute) he didn’t know if he would want to approach them. What would he say?  _‘Hey, we may and or may not have just kissed, and I may or may not want to do it again.'_

Based on personal experience, Bucky knew most guys didn’t like the idea of some guy approaching them with offers of making out, especially if they turn out to be straight. It’s not like he’s afraid of getting hit, because most likely they wouldn’t even land a hit before Bucky would have them on the ground crying for their mothers, but that didn’t mean he wanted to start an altercation over something so stupid.

Bucky groaned and looked around him. The only people he could see were the group of girls crowded together, a few couples making out, people in the heated pool, and some idiots playing beer pong. None of which matched whoever kissed him.

 _Fuck,_ he thought again to himself, wondering why he was letting himself get so hung up on something like this. Later, he would compile a mental list of guys in school that matched his description, but for now, he needed another drink.

-x-

“I think I kissed Steve Rogers,” Bucky informed Natasha with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. They were sitting together on the tennis court, like they so often did during the gym classes that they skipped. Natasha gave him a confused look, her mouth opening to question him, but he cut her off before she could start to clarify. “I mean, he kissed me at New Year’s thing… I just kissed back.”

“What the hell?” Natasha looked at him as if he’d just told her the most unbelievable thing in the world, like aliens had just attacked or that Santa was actually real.  Though, in her defense, it was pretty unbelievable. He still wasn’t sure he believed it himself, or if it was just wishful thinking. “When exactly?”

“At midnight,” Bucky answered. He went through a mental list of all the guys at school that matched the description he’d gathered three days prior, and the only guy that matched could be Steve. At least he thought.

“How can you be sure?” Natasha asked, one eyebrow raised in the way that Bucky wished he could manage to do. “The lights were off. It could have been anyone.”

Bucky scoffed and took a drag from his cigarette before answering. “Right. I forgot how often the guys ‘round here go around kissing each other.” He rolled his eyes and stomped his cigarette out next to him on the tennis court. He was pretty sure there were more of his cigarette butts on the ground than there had ever been tennis balls.

“From what you’ve told me, quite a few.” Natasha was smirking at him in the way that if she weren’t his best friend and the only person that gave half a shit about him, Bucky would have punched her right in her dumb face.

“Ignoring that, because you’re an asshole.”

Natasha must have picked up on the edge in Bucky’s voice and dropped it. “Maybe it was an accident?” she asked, her voice dripping with a fake stupidity that Bucky knew she was only faking for his sake. Even if sometimes she was an asshole, she was also one of the sweetest people he’d ever met, though she’d rip off his testicles if he told her that. Not that he’d ever go there.

Bucky scoffed yet again. “Nat, you don’t grab someone by the shoulders and not realize they’re of the same sex as you by accident. And even if you do, I’m pretty sure you’d realize once you started kissing them it was a bit different.”

“Point taken,” Natasha muttered under her breath. “Still, how can you be sure it was Rogers?”

Bucky shrugged and leaned back against the ground, his elbows supporting his weight. “He’s polite, I guess. I don’t know, I’ve never talked to the guy before. I see him in the hallways and shit like that, and I know he’s on the football team and people go batshit over him…” he trailed off a little, trying to remind himself where his train of thought was going before picking back up on it, “but he’s… nice, I guess?” Bucky shrugged. He wasn’t sure where he was going with that, exactly.

“So he kissed you because… he’s nice,” Natasha questioned, raising her damn eyebrow again.

“Yeah, I guess.” Bucky shrugged and looked up at the sun. It was too bright but he didn’t mind. It was a hell of a lot better than being in gym class, even if he would have to make up for it later in detention. “He probably just took Stark’s ‘grab whoever’s next to you’ thing too literally. Any other guy would have realized it was the school homo and freaked out. Steve’s too polite; I’m guessing he thought he had to finish the deed or something like that.”

“You make it sound like you know him,” Natasha input, her voice crawling with skepticism. “Or want to.”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled. “I didn’t want some random, drunk, moron kissing me at a fucking Stark party,” he defended himself, though he knew he was doing a pretty good job coming off as an ass. “I was just curious.”

Natasha smirked and shook her head in the way that she always did when sure she was right and everyone else was wrong. “He must have been one hell of a kisser, Barnes.”

Yeah, okay, he’d give her that one.

-x-

Bucky hated the school cafeteria, with an honest to God, burning passion. It was the mix of people he hated, the people he didn’t give a shit about, and then all the teachers that glared at him and eyed him like he was about to set the school on fire. He had the overwhelming urge to pull out his cigarettes and start smoking right in the middle of the cafeteria, but he restrained himself considering he didn’t want to get expelled. Again.

The only reason he even bothered with the cafeteria was because, considering his “sensitive case” as the bitch in the front office felt the need to refer to it as, qualified him for free lunches. The food tasted like shit, but he didn’t mind much, considering it was food that didn’t come out of his paycheck. At that rate he didn’t care how awful it tasted. Even if he was pretty sure it wasn’t even FDA regulated.

After getting whatever slop that was somehow qualified as food—meatloaf? Maybe?—he started to make his way to the back of the room where he usually sat with Clint and Natasha. Or sometimes just Natasha. It always changed with them. Hell, it was high school; it changed with everyone.

“You’re actually going to eat that?” Natasha asked from where she sat next to Clint, eating away at her peanut butter and banana sandwich. Bucky considered standing up and snatching the sandwich from her hands and finishing it off before she could leap across the table. It would be difficult, and most likely she’d have no qualms about beating the ever-loving shit out of him over it, but it would be worth it.

“It looks like shit,” Clint added, he himself eating a sandwich that appeared to be ham and cheese. Bucky’s stomach growled until he looked down to the “meatloaf”. His appetite wasn’t as much gone as it was disappointed in his life choices.

“Yes, I’m eating it,” he grumbled, picking up his fork and stabbing the food-variation like it was still alive. “Unless you have any other ideas, asshole.”

Clint put his hands up in surrender before finishing the rest of his sandwich. Bucky glared at the “food” in front of him as he started to shovel it in his mouth again. He was tempted to spit it out, but then he remembered how hungry he was, so he swallowed it with a grimace on his face.

“I hate rich people.”

“Who said we’re rich?” Natasha asked, doing the thing with her eyebrow again. Bucky swears if she does it again, he’s punching her in the face.

“You’re wearing Prada boots, Nat,” Bucky retorted, kicking her foot under the table.

“Yeah, I am,” she gave him a sly smile before leaning across the table and whispering to him, still loud enough for anyone walking passed her to hear, “because I stole them.”

“Now who saw that one coming?” Clint smiled and nudged Natasha in the side, who nudged him back, a smile on her face as she leaned into his side a little bit.

Clint and Natasha talked back and forth for the next few minutes, not leaving Bucky out, but not including him, per say. He didn’t care though. All he wanted to do was shovel the rest of his disgusting excuse for food into his mouth and leave the cafeteria. Go somewhere and smoke a cigarette or just be alone.

It wasn’t so easy to finish his food, though, not when Steve Rogers decided to sit down next to him.

At first, he was confused, and didn’t know what to say because  _what the fuck is he doing here?_ was the only thing going through his mind. Natasha and Clint stopped talking, and looked over to Steve, who was just…  _sitting there,_ like he had something to say and he’d forgotten what it was, or how to say it.

“Can I help you?” Bucky finally came back to himself, trying to forget the fact that he’d just made out with this guy not three days ago and had, at the time, wanted to have sex with him.

Steve opened his mouth for a second and then looked over to Clint and Natasha, who were just looking at Steve like he’d popped up out of the blue. “Uh—I—?”

“Spit it out,” Bucky said, making a motioning sign with his hand.

“Can we talk… somewhere else?” Steve asked, his voice nervous as he looked over his shoulder. “Outside the cafeteria, I mean.”

Bucky contemplated it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to accept Steve’s offer or not. He didn’t know what the big deal was; it was just a kiss. Albeit, a hot as fuck kiss, that  _yes,_ Bucky would have slept with Steve if the night had gone the way he’d wanted it to, but whatever. It was a kiss. It meant nothing and he didn’t know why Steve looked so jittery and weird. It was a fucking kiss.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, because curiosity was a demon he’d have to exorcise one day, but for today he’d let it possess him and follow Steve out into the empty hallway. “Lead the way,” he said before grabbing his tray. It wasn’t like he was going to finish the slop anyways.

He trashed his tray before walking out to the hallway, where Steve was standing, stick straight, by one of the football award cases. Bucky had never looked at them before, but he wondered if Steve was on any of them. And then after he wondered why the hell he wondered that.

“What’s up?” Bucky asked him, walking over to the award case and leaned against it.

“I—this is going to sound weird,” Steve started, his voice nervous and still jittery. “Actually, probably really weird, and if I’m being stupid or overstepping some kind of boundary, just tell me and I’ll back off but... at Tony’s—”

“Yes.”

“What?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest. “You were about to ask me if it was me you kissed at Stark’s New Year’s Eve thing.”

“You knew it was me?” Steve asked, like it was some huge mystery.

Bucky scoffed and nodded his head, not letting Steve in on the information that the only reason he knew was because he’d thought about it most of the night. It came down to about four guys who were about Steve’s height, though none of them were as built as he was. With the lights on, he could see that now. “Yeah, I did.”

“Oh,” Steve drawled, his voice quiet and pensive, like he hadn’t been expecting it.

Bucky sighed and pushed himself off the case. This conversation had been next to useless. “Look, I’ll get to the point for you. I won’t tell anyone that you kissed the resident faggot, and you can go on being Mr. Golden Boy, or whatever you do with your life. I honestly do not care.” He gave Steve a fake smile and clapped him on the shoulder before starting to make his way back into the cafeteria.

It wasn’t the first time something like this happened to him. High school was a proverbial hornet’s nest of closet cases, and Bucky had thought until now he’d weaseled his way into all their pants. It was always the same. 

It was the same with Daniel Parker towards the beginning of junior year, with his hazel eyes, dirty-blond hair and stupid jokes that made Bucky laugh; same with Chris Watson the tail end of sophomore year, blond hair, grey eyes, and the way he used to smile and make Bucky feel like maybe his life wasn’t the literal definition of shit; same with Seth Evans, in the beginning of sophomore year, when he felt like his life might end, but there was some kid with dark brown, almost black, hair and green eyes who touched him and maybe Bucky liked that more than just sex.

They all ended up telling him to fuck off, told him he wasn’t worth hiding, or told him it was just meaningless sex. And each time he ended up getting hurt and he didn’t let that happen to himself very often.

He never seemed to learn.

He shook his head a little to ward of the memories. He refused to let himself think about them. He continued to walk into the cafeteria until Steve caught up to him and put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t say that.”

“What?” Bucky asked, attempting raise one eyebrow and  _goddammit, fuck you, Natasha._

“You shouldn’t call yourself that,” Steve explained. His eyes were earnest and caring and  _God,_ Bucky hated how sweet Steve sounded.

“If I can’t say it who can?” Bucky asked, cocking his head to the side and crossing his arms again; it was like a defense, if he dropped his arms from his chest he might become vulnerable for a second.

“Still… And that’s not what I wanted to ask you. I mean, yeah, I wanted to know if it was you, first of all, but I didn’t want to ask you to not tell anyone.” Steve’s eyes were blue, and it was the first time Bucky noticed that. They were the kind of blue that you want to stare into and get lost into, but then he reminded himself that  _no,_ he didn’t want to get lost in someone. Not like that.

“Why not?” Bucky asked, voice thick with a skepticism Natasha would be proud of.

“I don’t know. Are you going to tell anyone?” Steve asked, shoving his hands into his letterman jacket.

Bucky didn’t think about it before he answered. He didn’t have to. “I might be an asshole, but I’m not an awful person. If I went around and said you kissed me then it’d ruin your whole American-dream, perfect high school student image in approximately point two seconds. I wouldn’t do that to someone.”

Steve smiled a little bit and nodded at him. “Thanks, Bucky.”

Bucky had to crush the urge to smile at the fact that Steve knew his name. “Don’t mention it. Now, what were you going to ask me?”

Steve laughed a nervous laugh and shook his head. “Nothing, never mind.”

“Really?” Bucky deadpanned. “You dragged me out into this damn hallway so you could say ‘never mind’?”

Steve shook his head and went quiet as some random kid walked by. “It’s stupid, really, forget it.”

“Lots of things are stupid,” Bucky said, a smile on his lips without his authorization. “This place, for example, so get on with it so I can ditch it.” 

Steve chuckled a little and his cheeks flushed and Bucky smiled a little brighter. He didn’t know why he kept flirting with Steve. The logical part of his brain was telling him to shut the fuck up and go back into the cafeteria and try to steal some of Natasha and Clint’s rich people food while they made out. However, another part of his brain that he was pretty sure might as well have been hardwired to a completely other part of his body was telling him to go for it, because Steve was hot.

 _God,_ Steve was hot. He was tall and all muscle, at least two-hundred and thirty pounds of muscle, if Bucky was being exact. All Bucky could think about was kissing him; the way his lips felt against his and the way his hands were strong when they grabbed him and the way he wanted Steve to push him against a wall and just—

“Bucky?”

“What?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Sorry, spaced out,” he said, shaking his head a little, managing to snap back into reality. “What was that?”

Steve’s nervous smile intensified and he bit his lip. “I was wondering if you’d wanna get coffee sometime?”

 _Shit._ Coffee. It was worse than sex or making out in the back of his car because coffee was a date and Bucky hadn’t gone on a date in…  _fuck,_ ever? He was seventeen with more sexual partners than a prostitute and he’d never been on a goddamn date. Not in the sense that a guy actually asked him to get a cup of coffee with him. Everyone else… it was sex. It was just sex. And Steve… he wanted coffee.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky answered, the logical part of his brain screaming at him to stop being such a fucking moron. “Great.”

Steve’s smile went from nervous to exuberant in a matter of seconds. It was like he was fucking kitten. “Great,” he repeated.

They exchanged numbers, and an awkward shuffle back to the cafeteria and then taking off in separate directions. When he got back to his table, Clint and Natasha were wrapped up in each other, so he didn’t bother them. Instead, he put his head on the table.

 _I’m an idiot,_ he thought to himself.

Both parts of his brain had to agree with that one


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to note that it's not likely for me to post chapters this close to each other because it usually takes me forever to get my shit together. Luckily I had Deana (dreamstoreality) to get it together for me. In other words, she's my beta, and she's really awesome, and you should really go read her fanfic that I'm betaing.  
> [When Angels Fall With Broken Wings](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3757879/chapters/8424586.com)

Coffee with Steve was awkward at first. They’d chosen a little coffee shop that wasn’t often crowded. Steve had suggested Starbucks at first, but Bucky had declined on the logic that it was usually crowded and noisy. In his subconscious, it was because in no world would he want a first date to be in a damn Starbucks, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

They sat across each other with the coffees they’d ordered. Steve had one of those fancy drinks Bucky couldn’t even pronounce, and Bucky stuck with plain black coffee with two sugars in it. Bucky didn’t know what to say, so instead of talking, he looked at everything except for Steve, and sipped his coffee. Steve started laughing awkwardly after a moment, which caused Bucky to look in his direction.

“What?” Bucky asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t miss something. He started to freak out that there was something on his face, which made him feel the need to get up and run the other direction.

“Nothing,” Steve said after he finished drinking his coffee. Bucky was surprised none of it came out of his mouth while he was laughing.

“Then why the hell are you laughing?” Bucky asked, tugging on his sleeve to cover his arm a little more. It was a nervous habit he’d picked up at some point.

“It’s just—this is awkward,” Steve responded after a couple of awkward seconds. “And you look like someone put a gun to your head and made you come.”

And _wow,_ that made Bucky feel like shit, because he didn’t mean to come across like that. It wasn’t even true. He’d been looking forward to going out with Steve, even if the smarter half of his brain was telling him, over and over and over again to back the fuck off and tell Steve to take a hike. He’d even worried about what he was going to wear, which he never did, considering he usually just threw something on if it was clean and sort of matched.

For whatever reason, he wanted to impress Steve, or at least look good for him.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky gave Steve a soft smile and leaned a little closer towards the table. “I do want to be here. I’m just—not very good at this.” He shook his head and laughed a little under his breath. “As you can probably tell.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not, because he was good at flirting and getting guys to sleep with him or to suck him off in back alleys or bathrooms of bars that he didn’t even like. _That_ he was fantastic at.

But he didn’t know if he was good at… well _this_. He hasn’t ever tried before.

“If it helps, I’m not either,” Steve admits, that stupid smile on his lips again. “We can just… talk.” He paused, and Bucky watched as his tongue darted out to lick whipped cream of his lips. Bucky found himself smiling. “I don’t know what about. Maybe ourselves?”

Because that’s how dates went, right? You talk about yourself, your life, and how great everything is in it.

Bucky felt sick all of a sudden, because he didn’t want to talk to Steve about his life. He didn’t want him to know a _damn thing_ about his life.

“You go first,” Bucky offered.

Bucky listened as Steve talked about himself. The first thing he noted was that he was humble. The second thing he noted was that Steve was sidestepping something. He could tell because he knew what it was like to do the same; Natasha called it deflecting. He knew what it was like to hide everything from everyone and pretend that you’re fine. Steve was just a lot better at it than him; unlike Bucky, Steve didn’t walk around with an eternal grimace and hatred for the world.

No, he had a light in his eyes that made Bucky’s stomach feel like it had butterflies in it. He talked in a way that made Bucky feel… _okay_. For the first time in a long time he didn’t feel like he was drowning. Steve was there, just _talking_ to him, and that made Bucky smile a real, honest to God, smile.

“How about you?” Steve finally asked Bucky after he’d told Bucky all about football, his parents (his mom died when he was ten and he currently lived with his dad) how he loved art, how his birthday was on fourth of July (even though it was supposed to be July first), how up until he was five, he thought the fireworks were just for him, how his ex-girlfriend was still a really good friend of his, how his favorite color was blue, and how his middle name was Grant.

Bucky had been dreading the question to the point that when Steve asked him he started to feel nauseous. “Not much to tell,” Bucky answered, though he knew it was a cop out. “I was born in Brooklyn, but we moved around a lot. Mom left when I was eight. We kept moving. Then we stopped moving. We moved to D.C. in seventh grade and haven’t moved since.” Bucky shrugged and took a drink of his coffee, which was almost empty and growing cold. “I’m not as interesting as a star football player born on Independence Day,” he joked.

Steve chuckled a little before shaking his head. “You don’t have to give me your whole life story or anything, just… tell me about you _._ ”

“Tell me what you want to know about me then,” Bucky suggested, trying his best not to sound agitated. “Because I can promise you, there’s really not much more to me than you already know.”

“What do I _probably already know_?” Steve asked, confusion in his blue eyes that reminded Bucky of some beautiful body of water at a magical island resort.

Bucky looked down at Steve’s hands, tapping the table in silent patterns of threes, over and over again. He continued to watch Steve's fingers tap at the marble table as he went on. “I know what people say about me at school. I’m a loner, not stupid,” he answered quietly, but it wasn’t completely true. He wasn’t a loner, he had Natasha and Clint. Even when Natasha and Clint weren’t dating, Clint was still one of the only people that would give him the time of day at school, and actually be happy to do so.

Hell, he'd even admit to hanging out with Clint on occasion even when he and Natasha weren't together. Clint was one of those guys that just _understood_ him _._ Bucky could go to him and start ranting and raving about something stupid and, instead of trying to calm him down, or do something about it, he'd just say, "that sucks, man."

Sometimes that was what Bucky needed.

“What do you—?” Steve began, but Bucky interrupted him.

“Steve, c’mon, you’re on the football team,” he said, giving him an incredulous look. “You know what they say about the queer guy that supposedly burnt down his last school, and how he stole a car, and beat a guy up so bad he ended up in ICU, how he sells drugs and whatever else they fucking think about me,” he finished bitterly, staring into the empty styrofoam cup that once held his coffee. If the ground was going to open up and swallow him whole, now would be the perfect time to do so.

Steve was quiet for a second. He started to tap his fingers faster on the table. “I’ve heard them, yeah.” Another pause of silence. “They true?”

Bucky shrugged. He was glad Steve was being straight forward instead of sidestepping the issue. “Some. I didn’t burn down the _entire_ school, it was one room, and it was an accident, and the teacher was a dick. I didn’t steal a car, unless the Hot Wheels I swiped from a Wal-Mart when I was nine counts. The guy didn’t end up in the ICU, but if someone hadn’t pried me off of him at the time, he probably would have. I don’t sell drugs because if I did, I doubt I’d still be in living in an apartment that smells like cat piss, and whatever else they think about me.” He let out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Fuck if I know.”

And that was it.

Bucky turned Steve completely off from him. The side of his brain that was smart was clapping and singing _Hallelujah_ for using his crazy to ward him off.

“Sounds like you’ve had it rough,” Steve muttered, looking in Bucky’s eyes.

But Bucky looked away because _yes,_ he had it rough and he didn't want Steve to know the half of it.

He didn't want _anyone_ to know.

_God,_ he didn’t even want Natasha to know but for _fuck’s sake_ she was like a goddamn super spy and she found out everything about him within two weeks of knowing each other.

“A little,” Bucky responded, playing it off with a shrug. “It’s… whatever. Some people have shitty lives, some people don’t. It’s…”

“Whatever?” Steve interjected.

Bucky nodded and gave a small, breathy laugh. “Yeah.”

He ended up going on and telling Steve about how he liked the color red, and how his car had a dent in it but he didn’t have the money to get it fixed, so he just claimed it has character, and how when he was six he broke his arm and got a cast on it and pretended for the duration that it was on that it was a super-bionic arm; that he could do anything with it. Which ended up getting his arm hurt even more.

Bucky didn’t mention that his father was the one that broke his arm in the first place.

When Steve laughed his nose crinkled and his eyes fluttered shut. Bucky's stomach filled with butterflies, or maybe they were bees, either way, he didn't care.

Maybe this time would be different.

-x-

Bucky didn’t know exactly what happened to get him so wrapped up in Steve. Maybe it was the fact that Steve seemed intent on smiling at him in the hallways, not as bright as he had when he sat across from him when they had coffee, but he still smiled, and it still made Bucky feel like he might get sick at any moment.

It was also the texts. The damn texting. It was stupid things too: _how are you?_ and _what’s up?_ or sometimes he’d just start texting Bucky about something and they’d have this whole long conversation about it and it just felt so…

It was even worse when it was midnight and Bucky couldn’t sleep, and the only thing he could think about doing was texting Steve. His phone was in his hands and he was throwing it up and down, trying to build up enough courage to text Steve. Which was stupid, and Bucky knew it. He was aware of how idiotic he was being. He and Steve had been texting for a week since they went out for coffee.

_You awake?_ he finally texted Steve, trying to wait for a response, but as it was late, he didn’t think he’d even get one. Still, he stared at his phone and waited with his stomach in knots for Steve to text him back.

About a minute and a half later, his phone vibrated. **_Yeah, am now._**

_Fuck, I’m sorry. Go back to bed,_ he responded, glad that desperation for Steve to stay up and talk to him couldn’t come across through text message.

**_No, it’s fine. What’s up, Buck?_ **

_Can’t sleep. Tired. But I can’t sleep._

**_Did you try counting sheep?_ **

_Does that really work?_

**_Oh, I dunno, but I guess it’s better than staying up all night if you’re tired._ **

_I guess I just can’t turn my mind off._

Why he said that, Bucky didn’t know. It was a great segue into a million things that Bucky did _not_ want to talk about, and yet he brought it up.

He found himself wondering what the fuck was wrong with himself.

**_Why not?_ **

It was one of those times where Bucky wished he could shrug via text. He didn’t want to explain himself. He just— _couldn’t._ His mind was always full of thoughts and memories that he hated and didn’t want to think about, but they were still there. Usually he could bury them away with work, school, sex, or getting drunk and/or high with Natasha. But when it was late at night, and he couldn’t work or go to school, and he wasn’t in the mood to go out and hit on guys he wouldn’t remember the next day, and he knew getting high or drunk would be stupid so late, all the thoughts came to the front of his mind, forcing him to think about them.

He fucking hated it.

_Guess I just had a long day._

_How about you?_

He sent the text mere seconds after the first. He didn’t want to talk about himself anymore. He wanted to talk about Steve. He wanted to listen to Steve talk about football, art class, something he was drawing, his homework, _anything._ He just wanted to be talking to him, even if it was through his phone.

**_Long day too. I had football practice, some of the guys wanted to go to some party afterwards but I didn’t feel like going, so I went home._ **

_Why didn’t you want to go?_

**_Not really my scene._ **

_Then what were you doing at Stark’s party?_

**_It was either that or spend the night at home with my dad talking about football and scholarships and blah, blah, blah. I thought if I went to a party with a bunch of guys from the team he’d get off my case._ **

_Parents are assholes._

**_I’m glad I went, though._ **

Bucky smiled and was more than appreciative that Steve couldn’t see the way his cheeks _might_ have flushed, and just how bright his goddamn smile was.

_I’m glad I went too._

There was silence for a few minutes before Steve texted him again.

**_I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out, if we’re being honest._ **

_I wasn’t aware we were being honest._

**_I’m always honest._ **

**_Ugh, I try._ **

Bucky chuckled before thinking over Steve’s confession. It wasn’t that it hadn’t crossed his mind, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t almost done it. He wanted to, he just didn’t know if he should. Steve was too good for him. He knew it would end, and he didn’t want Steve to get hurt either. But he knew someone would get hurt, because that’s how it was with him: everyone always got hurt in the end.

_I wanted to ask you out,_ he admitted, not knowing what else to say. He was still thinking of how he could ask Steve out.

**_Then why didn’t you?_ **

_Lack of experience?_

**_Oh come on._ **

_What?! Asking someone out is a whole hell of a lot harder than just flirting with them and trying to get into their pants._

_I told you I was no good at this._

**_I can see you pouting._ **

_Shut up, I don’t pout._

**_Sure. Sure._ **

_You’re awful. Why do I even want to ask you out on a date anyways?_

**_Because you like me?_ **

_Don’t let it get to your head, Rogers._

Bucky was smiling like a clown on laughing gas at that point, but he didn’t even care. He felt the sickening sweet feeling overtake his body, but it wasn’t bad. He didn’t think he’d be able to stop smiling, and that surprised him. He didn’t smile often. Maybe at something stupid that Natasha and Clint said, or when he flirted with someone, but with Steve it was _real_. Not an afterthought or a part of a façade; with Steve it was so real it almost hurt, but in a good way.

_Fine. Here goes nothing._

_Do you want to go out on a date with me?_

**_Was that really so hard?_ **

_Was that a yes?_

**_You didn’t say where._ **

_I don’t care. You choose._

**_That’s not how this works._ **

_See! I told you! I suck at this._

_Let me think._

_Still thinking._

_Okay. How about that diner a few blocks from the coffee shop we went to? The one with all the red umbrella things outside. Tomorrow at like… 7?_

**_That sounds great._ **

_If they have shitty food it’s on you for letting me choose the place._

-x-

Going out with Steve was confusing. On one hand, it was easy, because Steve was just so goddamn easy to get along with. He made Bucky smile, gave him butterflies in his stomach (or bees, the verdict still wasn’t in on that), and made his entire body feel like it was burning with something that wasn’t quite fire, but wasn’t quite ice.

He knew he was doing it again. He knew he was falling for the same type of guy that would most definitely end up screwing him over—and in Steve’s case, he wasn’t sure it’d even be in the good way first—and then leave him out to dry. He'd told himself not to risk it, and that he should've told Steve to just fuck off…

But then Steve smiled.

_God_ he had the most beautiful smile.

It was the kind of smile that made Bucky feel weak in the knees and want to crush his lips against Steve’s once again, even though the only time they’d kissed was at that damn party, which was driving him crazy in and of itself. He wanted to feel Steve’s lips on his like he had the first night, hot and heavy with more lust and passion than expected for a kiss between two strangers in a dark room. He wanted to know what it would be like to kiss Steve now.

Steve would wave to Bucky a little at school, or smile at him, even say “hi” to him. Bucky was always surprised each time. All the other guys acted like he was invisible at school, even went as far as to join in on the teasing—which ended as soon as it started, after Bucky had beat the shit out of the guy who thought it’d be smart to call him a cocksucker—but Steve was different. He was different in so many ways that it physically hurt for Bucky to be around him most of the time at school. He was dreading the day Steve turned out to out like one of the other guys.

Or maybe he was hoping he would so he’d have an excuse out of the feeling in his gut that wouldn’t go away whenever he thought about Steve.

He didn’t know.

“What are you doing tonight?” Bucky recognized the voice and turned to look at Steve, expecting to see his smile. He was disappointed when he found that Steve wasn’t smiling.

“Apparently something with you,” Bucky responded with a smile, closing his locker door as Steve approached him. He had planned on going out with Natasha and Clint, but he could cancel on them. They wouldn’t even notice he was gone, probably.

“Seriously,” Steve said with a small laugh before leaning next to Bucky’s locker. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all. Why?”

Steve shrugged and looked over at Bucky with eyes that resembled a kicked puppy. “I don’t want to go to practice, or go home, or…” he sighed and shook his head before looking down at his feet, kicking at something that wasn’t there before continuing. “I was hoping we could hang out.”

Bucky observed Steve as he leaned against the locker. He looked upset. Bucky noticed that the second he'd started talking. It was an odd occurrence for Steve to be sad; usually when Bucky saw Steve in the hallways he was so filled with life, and the two times they went out he was all smiles, jokes and laughter.  Bucky didn’t think it was fair that someone like Steve should be sad. He didn’t deserve to lean against a dirty locker with a depressed look on his face.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky responded, leaning over to Steve and nudging his side. “You want a ride?”

Steve nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Buck.”

“No problem.” Bucky smiled back at Steve and slung his bag over his shoulder before motioning for Steve to follow him out to the parking lot. It was silent as they walked out to Bucky’s car, neither of them talking or even looking at each other.

Bucky felt odd as he walked through the still semi-populated hallways with Steve beside him. He was surprised that Steve was even allowing himself to be seen in public with Bucky. It didn’t seem to matter to Steve, though. He still walked behind Bucky, his eyes downcast as they made their way out to the student parking lot.

“Where to?” Bucky asked as they settled into Bucky’s car. Steve just shrugged and turned his head to the side to look at Bucky. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat as he looked into Steve’s crystal clear blue eyes; they were so honest, like he’d never even considered telling a lie in his life. At least, in comparison to Bucky, that's how he seemed.

“I dunno.” Steve looked away from Bucky after a moment and leaned his head back against the seat’s headrest. “I just wanted to be alone with you.”

“We could go back to my place?” Bucky suggested, though he regretted it the second after it came out of his mouth. If he took Steve back to his place the only option’s he had were to _a)_ tell him he lived alone, which would most definitely lead to Steve asking him _why_ and Bucky having to actually tell him his fucked up backstory, or _b)_ lie to Steve. He didn’t like either of the options, but option _B_ he was starting to like a lot less. He didn’t want to lie to Steve about anything. He wanted Steve to be the one thing he didn’t taint with his… _self._

Steve cracked a smile at Bucky and nodded. “Sounds great,” he answered. His smile still wasn't as bright as it usually was. It wasn't fair; Bucky thought that Steve deserved to be filled with so much happiness that he was always smiling, even if people who always smiled usually pissed him off. Steve was different though. In so many ways he was unlike anyone Bucky had ever known. Maybe it was because—besides Nat and Clint—Steve was the only person who looked at him and actually tried to see _him._ Not the rumors and speculation, not the stereotype or the talk. He actually tried to see _him._ It made something inside Bucky go warm, and made Bucky smile himself.

-x-

“Here we are,” Bucky threw his keys on the table by the door as Steve walked into his apartment. “Make yourself at home,” he said before kicking a pair of shoes out of the walkway. “Sorry ‘bout the mess. Don’t really got much time to clean up after myself.”

Steve shrugged and took off his letterman jacket, tossing it on a heap of clothes that Bucky wasn’t one-hundred percent sure was actually clean or not. Steve didn’t seem to mind, though, so Bucky didn’t push the matter. “It’s really not that messy. You should see some of the guys’ rooms on the team…”

_Believe me, I have,_ Bucky thought, wondering if Steve knew just how many closet cases on his football team there were. Even worse, he started to wonder if Steve had ever slept with any of them, which, _no,_ he did not want to think about that and it was _not_ because he was jealous. Not even a little, tiny, itsy-bitsy, bit.

_Not at all._

“You want something to eat?” Bucky asked, his voice coming out quicker than anticipated. He desperately did not want to talk about football players and their messy rooms that Steve may or may not have been in doing things that made Bucky not at all even slightly jealous. “All I have here is ramen, cereal and beer… but I can order a pizza if you want.”

Steve nodded and took a step further into Bucky’s apartment. “Pizza sounds great, yeah,” he replied, an awkward half smile taking place on his face.

“Great,” Bucky repeated with a nod, ushering Steve unto his apartment. For once, Bucky was embarrassed at the size of his apartment. The one room studio never felt more crowded than it did at the moment with Steve standing by the couch. “You can sit down,” he offered, motioning to the couch. “I mean, unless you’d like to stand. Whatever you want.”

“No, sitting sounds… great.” Steve shuffled over to the couch and plopped down with a resounding thud as Bucky looked for the coupon that he had for some kind of pizza place. If he remembered correctly, it was for an extra-large pizza and soda, which was good considering Bucky only had beer in the refrigerator. Unless Steve wanted to drink the disgusting tap water or expired milk. Bucky wasn’t sure he liked the ultimate outcome of that.

Besides, if it got him to save money, he didn’t care what it was for, or who was sitting on his couch… he was finding that goddamn coupon.

“So…” Steve started off, his voice dragging a bit at the end, as if he wasn’t sure how to make a proper conversation with Bucky. It’d never been a problem for them until now, though Bucky assumed it had to do with the fact that Steve had ditched practice and was sitting on his couch, in his apartment, with only the two of them in it. Alone. “Where’s your dad? Is he at work?”

Bucky laughed in spite of how much he didn’t want to answer the question at all. It was just… _fuck,_ Steve had literally basically just asked him _Hey, does your dad even live here?_ in the most subtle way he thought was possible.

“What?” Steve questioned, as if it weren’t obvious what was going on. Maybe it wasn’t to Steve and he sincerely thought Bucky’s dad was off to work like an actual good father. That was an even funnier thought.

Bucky gave up on the scavenger hunt for the coupon for a minute to walk over and sit next to Steve on the couch. It wasn’t something he wanted to tell someone about while searching through his kitchen for a fucking two inch piece of paper from Pizza Hut.

“My dad doesn’t live here,” Bucky informed Steve bluntly, trying not to let any old—or not so old—emotions rear their ugly head.

“Where does he live then?”

Bucky shrugged and looked away from Steve’s eyes. There was no way in hell he was getting through this sob story whilst looking into Steve’s eyes. He already felt things inside him swelling up that he hadn’t let himself feel since sophomore year and _fuck,_ he hadn't even began the story. “Dunno. Knowing him probably jail, or some crack house. I haven’t talked to him since I was fifteen.”

“Then—”

“I’m legally emancipated,” Bucky interjected, knowing Steve’s next question would be something along the lines of _then who do you live with?_ or _if you don’t live with your dad, then who tucks you in at night?_ or not exactly that, but something close. “Have been since I was fifteen.”

“Why?” There was so much care in Steve’s voice that Bucky was glad he was looking down at his shirt, looping his finger through a hole, because he was afraid if he looked up at Steve he might break down.

“Look, you don't want to hear my sob story,” Bucky tried, because if he could get out of telling this story, he would. He knew Steve wouldn't let him get away with it that easy though.

“Hey,” Steve looked at him with a smile and reached down to take Bucky's hand that had been looping between a hole in his shirt. Steve's fingers twined with Bucky's, which caused the butterflies and bees to make a reappearance for the hundredth time in his stomach. It dawned on him that he'd never held another guy's hand before just for the hell of it. He didn’t understand. _Who the hell invented this, anyways?_ he wondered, looking down at their hands, the way they linked together like puzzle pieces. _Who the fucking shit thought it’d be a smart idea to go around and start holding each other’s hands? This is so stupid. Goddamn._

"You can tell me, you know," Steve went on, beginning to stroke Bucky's hand with the pad of his thumb. "You don't have to, but I mean... you can, if you want to."

Bucky sighed and continued to look at their hands. That was it. He was in too deep to not tell Steve now.

“He… He was supposed to be out with some friends, drinking buddies. Whatever. Anyways, he was supposed to be out, and usually when he went out, he was out all night, or at least when he came home he was too drunk to remember a damn thing.” Bucky took a deep breath and bit down on his lip, trying to forget the images of broken beer bottles and bruises that wouldn’t go away for days, sometimes weeks. “I brought a guy home. Long story short, Dad didn’t like walking into seeing his son getting fucked up the ass. Beat the shit out of me. Gave me the choice to either get myself fixed or leave. I chose the latter.”

Bucky shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He hated thinking about it. He didn’t even know why he had to tell Steve; he should have just lied. He should have just told him that his dad died and he somehow managed to get himself out of the system. Steve would believe it. He’d have no reason not to. He shouldn’t have told him the truth, because now he knew a part of how fucked up Bucky’s life was, and there was no way he would stick around after that.

“I moved out, crashed with Natasha for a while, got a job, and eventually got enough money to pay for rent for this… well, _this_.” He bit the inside of his cheek before looking up at Steve. His eyes were wide and filled with pity. _Fuck you,_ a part of Bucky wanted to scream, _I don’t want your rich boy, captain of the football, perfect life pity—_

But then Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s lips. It was nothing like New Year’s Eve, not even slightly. Steve’s lips only barely brushed against Bucky’s at first; everything so chaste and soft and unlike anything Bucky had ever had that he actually whimpered into Steve’s mouth. The kiss only lasted for a second or two longer than their first kiss, but Bucky felt even more out of breath when Steve pulled away this time. His heart was beating a mile a minute; he felt as if it was the first time someone had ever touched him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered, moving his hand that wasn't holding Bucky's hand up to push some of the hair off of Bucky's forehead and behind his ear. He didn’t move his hand afterwards, just left it on his cheek and moved his thumb gently back and forth in a caressing motion. Bucky felt like his skin was on fire. “You deserve better. _God_ you deserve so much better. I don’t think you know how much better you deserve.”

Bucky shook his head and looked down at where their legs had become nearly pressed together.

“You know, you barely know me, right?” he muttered, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feeling of Steve’s fingers moving from his cheek to his hair, playing gently with the dark brown strands.

“Yeah,” Steve answered, a quiet simplicity to his voice that Bucky wasn’t sure was intentional or not. “I—yeah. I’ve only known you for, what? A few—”

“Twenty one days,” Bucky answered, looking back up to Steve. “It’s not that hard to figure out, I mean, our first kiss was on New Year’s Eve, and it’s the twenty first. So twenty one days.”

Steve knocks their knees against each other and laughs a little. Bucky can’t help but to laugh too. “That’s not the point, asshole. The point is…” his voice wavers and he bites his lip as if he forgot what he was going to say. “Look, I don’t know what the point is. I just… I care about you. That’s the point. I care about you and I like you is the point and I don’t care if I’ve only known you for twenty one days.”

Bucky knows he cares about and likes Steve too. He knows he likes the way Steve kisses him, the way Steve holds his hand, the way Steve smiles at him like he’s special when he knows he's not, the way Steve laughs at jokes that Bucky _knows_ aren’t funny, the way Steve’s fingers feel in his hair, and the way that he felt like he could melt into Steve.

“Yeah, me too,” he responded, his voice soft as he looked into Steve’s eyes. He couldn’t manage to bring his voice up passed a whisper; it was as if he talked any louder someone else would hear the exchange, even if that was beyond impossible. “I’ve never told anyone that,” he said after a moment, leaning into Steve, almost involuntarily. The part of his brain that was partial to Steve was controlling his body, while the other part of his brain was quiet for once; maybe it was relenting, giving into this whole ‘Bucky _really_ likes Steve thing’, or maybe it was just dormant, cut off from being able to pass judgment on Bucky’s potential boyfriend candidates.

And wow. Boyfriend. That was a big, two-syllable word that would be another first for Bucky. He didn’t think about it.

Steve smiled in return and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. _Goddammit,_ he thought, wondering why his body had to react in an episode of shivers to the mere act of Steve’s lips kissing his forehead. It was such a simple act, but yet he wanted Steve to do it again. He wanted to crawl into Steve’s lap, lay his head on Steve’s chest, have Steve play with his hair, and have Steve tell him about his day.

And yeah, he was pretty fucked when it comes to Steve, but he was starting not to mind so much.

-x-

They did end up getting pizza, but Bucky never did find that coupon, which lead him to believe Natasha stole it with her grabby little fingers because “ _honestly_ , she’ll steal anything,” he ranted to Steve when he couldn’t find the coupon.

Steve had offered to pay, but Bucky wouldn’t let him. He felt like he owed Steve something, though he knew Steve wouldn’t look at it that way, so he didn’t tell him.

They spent the majority of the night watching stupid reality television, eating half their weight in pizza, and drinking coke. At some point, Bucky ended up leaning his head on Steve’s chest, and Steve had gone back to playing with Bucky’s hair. It gave Bucky a feeling of warmth and comfort that there was someone there with him; holding him and just being with him. It made him feel warm. He curled into Steve’s side at the thought of how few times he felt like that, and how he wished they could have stayed in their positions forever.

When their pizza was gone, they were almost out of soda, and all the reality T.V. had started to drive them crazy, Bucky looked up to Steve. “Why’d you want to skip practice today?”

Steve shrugged and looked down to meet Bucky's gaze. “I can’t take being around those guys sometimes. They’re… God, they’re honestly awful.” Bucky knew how true that was. But he also knew that it was a façade for most of them, or at least the few he’d once given a shit about. “I just didn’t want to be around them, and I didn’t want to go home and here the whole ‘missing practice’ spiel from my dad.”

“So you realized I was your only way out of it?” Bucky joked, earning him an elbow to the side from Steve.

“Shut up,” Steve said through a small laugh. “No, I just… I had a shitty day, I guess. It wasn’t any different than any other day, it’s just—”

“Same day, same bullshit. Some days it’s harder to put up with that same bullshit than others,” Bucky offered, frowning a little at Steve. Steve nodded and Bucky sighed at the pained expression on his face. He reached over and twined their fingers together, which felt incredibly bold for him. Steve didn't even react to the motion, only to curl his fingers around Bucky's. “You can come to me, you know, those days when the bullshit is too much. You have me.”

“You got me too,” Steve responded, almost immediately, giving Bucky’s fingers a squeeze. Bucky smiled and nuzzled his nose into Steve’s neck. He didn’t want Steve to leave; he wanted Steve to stay there with him for as long as possible.

“Thanks for offering to take me home with you, though,” Steve said after a moment, his hand warm in Bucky’s. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d said no."

"I wouldn't have said no," Bucky responded, more quickly than he’d meant to. But it was true; he would have never said no to Steve if he'd came to him in a time of need. Not when Steve was close to the only person that had ever made Bucky feel so warm and… _real._

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky's head, above where his fingers still played with Bucky's almost shoulder length brunet hair. "Thanks," he responded, his voice gentle and intimate.

"How often do you skip practice?" Bucky moved so his chin was propped up against Steve's shoulder again.

"Not often, but often enough that when my dad finds out he gets pissed the hell off." Steve sighed and looked away from Bucky, his eyes trying to hide something that Bucky understood without Steve having to explain. “But I’m the captain, you know, so no matter how much I miss, my dad finds a way to talk coach into keeping me on the team.”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with that,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head against Steve’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t—” He cut himself off. “You should be happy.” He finished.

Steve turned to look Bucky in the eye, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’m happy now. I’m usually not. Not… not like this. You make me happy.”

Bucky smiled back at Steve and leaned up to press his lips against Steve’s, ignoring the awkward angle as long as he could. Before long though, his neck began to strain, and he wanted to pull away, but he couldn’t. The way Steve’s lips were sliding against his were making his head go light and his heart skip faster than he knew was healthy; still, he couldn’t pull away from him, or the way that Steve’s hands moved to tangle in Bucky’s messy hair, or the way his tongue was tracing this inside of his mouth with a gentleness that almost _hurt_ more than it felt good.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered after he finally managed to pull himself away from Steve’s lips. Bucky’s lips were on fire from kissing Steve, and he was aching to lean back in and press his lips to Steve’s again, but this time maybe never let them part.

“C’mere,” Steve whispered, pulling Bucky close to him again. Bucky took it as good an opportunity as any to straddle Steve’s legs and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck. Steve smiled up at him before they pressed their lips together again. It was reminiscent of their first kiss, except filled with a passion and urgency that hadn’t been there before. Bucky had felt passion before, as well as urgency, but he’d never felt it like he had then with Steve.

The longer they kissed, the needier the both of them became. Without thinking, Bucky’s hands moved to Steve’s belt and he began to unbuckle it, but the second he did, Steve jerked back from him.

“What?” Bucky asked, his voice ragged from lack of oxygen.

“I—what are you doing?” Steve asked, his eyes wide and confused, looking at Bucky as if he were strange and brand new to him.

“I thought I was about to suck your dick but I guess I’m not?” Bucky pulled his hands away from Steve’s pants and sat back on Steve’s legs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind?” It was new for Bucky; never had he tried to give a guy a blowjob and get asked what he was doing in response. Confusion didn't cover what he was feeling.

“No, I just,” Steve stopped for a moment, as if he were trying to find what words to say. “It’s just, soon, I guess.”

Again, Bucky didn’t see that as a bad thing. Then again, the lengths of most of his relationships only usually lasted from the moment he met the guy to when he got off. He didn’t suppose he had any right to say what was too soon.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he replied, nodding because he didn’t know what else to do. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve said, and there was that damn smile again. One of the small ones that Bucky wasn’t even sure he was aware he giving him. “Don’t apologize.”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds afterwards. Bucky tried not to let it sink into his brain that he was basically sitting on Steve’s lap in quiet contemplation over a damn blowjob. Neither of them seemed to want to break the silence, nor did they seem to know what the next reasonable step was.

After a few more seconds, which really felt like agonizing, painful, minutes, Steve was the one to break the silence. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Not unless you want to.”

“Not really.”

Bucky felt himself smile. “Good.”

They ended up watching a movie on Steve’s Netflix account on his laptop he kept in his bookbag, Bucky’s head on Steve’s shoulder, curled up until they fell asleep. It was a feeling Bucky realized he would like to get used to, no matter what the outcome.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to leave a comment to let me know how you like this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really really really really r e a l l y need to thank Deana (dreamstoreality) for betaing this monster. You should have seen her freaking out when she realized it was 8k words and 31 pages. I'm terrible, honestly.  
> I love you Deana.  
> Alright, enjoy reading, and hopefully I'll post the next chapter sometime in the near future if my writers block will let me. It probably won't, though.

“What’s with you?” Natasha whispered as she leaned over.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, not looking at Natasha as she spoke. Bucky ignored her and continued to take chemistry notes.

“You’re acting different.”

“No I’m not,” he answered, though he was aware he had been acting strange, at least from Natasha’s point of view. The truth was, he was deep in thought about him and Steve.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, Natasha, I’m not,” he insisted, but it was no use. Nat was nothing but consistent when she wanted to know something.

“Yes, James, you are.”

“We aren’t doing this right now.”

“Doing what?” Natasha asked innocently.

“The whole, ‘yes you are’, ‘no I’m not,’ thing. It’s not going to work this time.”

Natasha snorted, and gave him a look that yelled, _keep telling yourself that._ Bucky rolled his eyes and continued to pretend he was paying attention to the teacher’s lesson about- well about whatever it was. It didn’t really matter. At some point he’d catch up on whatever they’d learned in class that day, but if he had to listen to the sound of Mr. Carlson’s monotone voice for another second, he was going to up and leave class. But, considering he couldn’t risk another detention this semester, it meant he had to stick it out. Which also meant he had to stop skipping gym class.

He hated high school.

“Who is he?” Natasha interrupted his thoughts, which caused Bucky to snap his head up.

“What?”

“You have that look you get whenever you’re getting laid by someone you can’t talk about,” Natasha explained. “You know, hot football player that’s deep in the closet.”

“I do not,” Bucky grumbled. Sometimes he really hated being friends with someone as observant as Natasha. He knew she was right, though. Not that he’d admit it, but she was pretty much always right.

Natasha seemed to usually be right when it came to Bucky, especially. She knew him too well, and sometimes he hated it. Then he remembered she was one of three people that gave a shit about him, so he put up with her.

“Seriously, who is he?” Natasha persisted, which Bucky rolled his eyes at.

“No one, Natasha. Seriously, there’s no one.” Which, wasn’t a total lie. He knew Natasha was just referring to someone he was sleeping with, and he wasn’t sleeping with Steve, so it wasn’t a real lie. It was a _white_ lie.

Yeah, he’d go with that.

“Impossible. You never get that gross looking, glazed over look on your face unless you’re falling for someone that’s fucking you.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. This was neither the time nor place to bring up what he wished was ancient history. “You don’t know shit.”

“Yeah right. Come on, you came to me crying after every one of those dickheads broke up with you.”

“Okay, _one,_ no one broke up with me, because there was never any relationships, and _two,_ I don’t cry.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “But you wanted to.”

She had him there. And if he was being honest, which he wasn’t, he had cried. A little. It hurt a little more each time, and he hated himself for having let those guys—ones who he almost fell in love with—get to him.

“Can we talk about something else? Or, you know, not talk at all,” he whispered back. The only reason Carlson hadn’t caught onto their conversation was because they sat in the back, and because they were skilled in the art of talking during class.

“Fine,” Natasha muttered, pausing for a second before going on. “Football, basketball, or soccer?”

“What?”

“What team is he on?”

“This isn’t talking about something else," Bucky deadpanned.

“Yes it is. You wanted to stop talking about how you came to me crying. Now I’m asking you what team he’s on.” Natasha wore a shit-eating grin that made Bucky want to risk a detention or possible suspension just to get away from her. Knowing Natasha, she’d probably just get up and follow, so it wouldn’t be worth it anyway.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone, Nat. Seriously. I swear on Clint’s dog.”

Natasha glared at him. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t lead off with swearing on Lucky.

“Fine. So, you’re not sleeping with anyone. But there’s still _someone_.”

 _Shit_.

“So what, you met someone somewhere and now you’re—?”

“Why do you care?” Bucky cut her off, glaring at her.

“Because I know you.” All of a sudden, she was serious. For all Nat’s teasing, and though most of their relationship was bickering, Bucky knew she always had his best interests at heart. Maybe to a fault. “I know you’ll just fall for this guy and he’ll end up screwing you over like every other guy you’ve fallen for. I’m trying to help, okay?”

“I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

“Is he in the closet?”

“That doesn’t—”

“Is he?”

Bucky looked away from the front of the classroom, where he had been pretending to stare at the PowerPoint presentation. He didn’t want to think about any of this. He had a damn good night with Steve, and he didn’t want… _this_ to ruin it.  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Natasha gave him a pitiful look, like someone had just kicked him in the face. “Bucky…”

He didn’t respond. He wanted to forget the entire conversation they’d just had, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

-x-

Bucky still wasn’t talking to Natasha by the time lunch rolled around. That was their dynamic, though. Instead of huge arguments, they usually just gave each other the cold shoulder until someone apologized, or they started to pretend that nothing had ever happened. He wasn’t necessarily mad at Natasha; he was just broody. But according to Nat that was his default mood.

Instead of going to the cafeteria like most days, he opted out of eating the slop the cafeteria served, and decided to go out to the tennis court. Sometimes he went there to clear his mind during free periods, or sometimes he just skipped class. It was better than sitting through lunch with Clint and Natasha while he and Nat were still ignoring each other.

The downside to it was once he was alone his brain could find a way to creep up on him and force him to contemplate his life. There was something about the cold, crisp, January air that always made his brain want to go deep into thought. He found himself thinking about his and Natasha’s conversation, about his past love-life, and about her question of Steve being in the closet.

It was none of her business. It was different with Steve. He was… _fuck,_ he was Steve. He was the captain of the football team, and looked like a goddamn model. He was, for one, out of Bucky’s league, and two, understandably in the closet. From what Bucky understood, his dad was your typical, asshole, jock-father. He knew the type. Every guy he’d ever pseudo-dated had that type of dad. The kind of father that thinks forcing his kid into sports is the only parenting technique there is. The same guy that freaks out when he finds out that his child is anything other than perfectly heterosexual.

It was the same reason he’d attempted to stay in the closet for so long. He’d known he was gay since he’d even known the word for it, but even then, he knew his father wouldn’t like it. Thinking back to the night his dad walked in on him—with Seth, who ended up breaking things off with him before the bruises could even fade—made him feel sick. The look on his father’s face, the mix of drunken rage and instant hatred for his son.

It haunted him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath in an attempt to distance himself from the memories. It was easier to bottle them up and ignore them whenever possible than it was to dwell on them. Instead of continuing in his train of thought, which was leading to a place in his mind that he wanted as far away from as possible, he laid back on the tennis court and stared up at the sky.

It was cloudy. He smiled. He liked clouds.

He let his eyes shut as he soaked up the sun, though it was not as warm as he wished it were.If he were lucky, he’d fall asleep right here and nap through the rest of lunch. Maybe the bell for class would wake him, maybe it wouldn’t. He didn’t care.

Luck was not with him, however. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he felt someone looking at him. He grunted. “Whoever you are, fuck off,” he grumbled. He assumed it was just someone wanting to practice something tennis related. He didn’t care.

“You sure?”

 _Fuck_. Steve.

He grunted again and pushed himself up onto his elbows to look up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Would you believe me if I said playing tennis?”

“Fuck you.”

Steve laughed and plopped down on the ground next to him. Bucky yawned as he looked over to Steve, who just sort of looked at Bucky with this weird smile that Bucky didn’t really understand. He guessed if he was going to have his nap interrupted, Steve was a pretty good guy to interrupt it.

“How’d you know I was out here?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

“I asked your friend. Natasha?”

Bucky groaned and flopped back on the court, hitting his head in the process. _Ouch._ “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bucky sighed and Steve gave him a look that Bucky knew was universal for _tell me._ “It’s just, we sort of had a fight earlier, and we aren’t talking, so that’s why I’m out here.”

“What’s that have to do with me asking her where you are?” Steve asked, curiosity spilling through his voice and onto his face.

“The fight was sorta about you?” Bucky felt his voice get higher at the end of his answer/question. He wasn’t sure how Steve would react to him telling his friends about them. Not that there was much of a _them_ to tell anyone about, but that was probably Bucky’s self-consciousness speaking.

“Wait… what?”

Bucky sat up before he even dared to explain what had happened between him and Natasha. “Well, I didn’t tell her your name. I didn’t really even tell her about you at all. She just kept pestering me about whether or not I was sleeping with someone, which I told her I’m not, and then she brought up some shit that pissed me off, and then she went on and started to badger me about what team this guy she _assumes_ I’m sleeping with is on, because for some _fucking_ reason she assumes I have a thing for guys on organized sports teams, and then—”

Steve burst out laughing, to the point his head went flying back and a wider than life smile cracked on his face. “I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m sorry, it’s just, when you ramble like that, you get this pouty look on our face.”

“I do not.”

“You really do.”

Bucky grunted and Steve continued to smile at him. “Sorry, go on.”

“It’s just, she hit a nerve. Also, she knows that there is a guy, and that he’s on some kind of sports team.” He looked away from Steve for a moment and grumbled, “And she knows we kissed at Stark’s party.”

“You told her?”

Bucky was surprised at the tone of Steve’s voice. He didn’t sound angry, but instead surprised. Bucky sighed. Sometimes he really didn’t understand Steve.

“Yeah. I mean, it was a few days after the party. We were talking, out here actually, and I told her that I thought I kissed you. That was it. But… knowing Nat, she’ll piece it all together. She’s smart. She knows that there’s no way you’re hanging around me unless we’re… whatever.”

Then a look of almost fear crossed over Steve’s face. It was like a cold realization hit him all at once; Bucky knew the look and feeling well. “Do you not want people to know about us?”

“No!” _Shit._ “No, I mean, no, it’s not like that. I mean, it’s not that I don’t, I just,” _Fuck. Way to put your foot in your mouth, Barnes._ He took a deep breath and started over. “It’s not like that. It’s just… I thought you wouldn’t want people to know.”

“Why do you say that?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky with wide eyes. It was like he was looking and searching for something in Bucky; something that most likely wasn’t even there.

“Why do you think?” Bucky retorted, locking eyes with Steve’s. “You’re… you’re _you_ , with your football and all, and I’m _me._ You realize if suddenly we decided to make out in the hallways like every other damn couple in this school, the entire population of this stupid place would turn on you? There’s no way in hell they’d let you stay on the football team.”

“The rest of the team can’t kick me off. Only the coach—”

“Yeah, Mr. Bible Belt. I’ve met him. He literally told me I was going to hell once. I don’t think he’d be too happy that his star player decided to come out as… whatever. Especially if he’s dating me.”

“So we are dating?” Steve looked too excited for his own good.

“That’s what you pulled out of that?” Bucky snapped. He didn’t understand why Steve wasn’t taking this seriously. More than that, he didn’t know why Steve wasn’t freaking out yet. He couldn’t figure out why Steve wasn’t yelling at him to fuck off and to leave him the hell alone yet.

Steve shrugged and leaned over to lean his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. “Guess so.”

“I don’t get you,” Bucky grumbled, looking to the side to stare into Steve’s blue eyes. “Why aren’t you freaking out? Or at least begging me to keep this on the down low, or whatever you want to call it.” Steve didn’t answer; he just shrugged again. Bucky sighed and leaned his head against Steve’s. “What about your dad?”

“I dunno,” Steve muttered. “Don’t really care either.”

“I’ve been there, you know. I mean, I highly doubt your dad will react like mine did, but… if he realizes this whole thing got you kicked off of the football team, and you know, the whole dating a guy thing, he’s not going to be happy.”

“Why are you trying to talk me out of being with you?” Steve asked, removing his chin from Bucky’s shoulder and cocking his head to the side slightly. “Because it’s really not working, Buck.”

Bucky sighed and laid back on the court again, this time making sure not to hit his head so hard. “I’m not talking you out of being with me. That’s… believe me, that’s not what I’m doing. Not even a little. But we can still be together, you know, without everyone knowing.”

Steve sighed and laid down next to Bucky. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Now you’re mad.”

“No, I’m not. I just… I don’t know. This seems backwards.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, tilting his head to the side to look at Steve.

“You would think it would be me asking to keep this hidden, but it’s you, and… I don’t know how to feel about it. I don’t like the idea of having a boyfriend I have to hide.”

And wow. There it was. The _B_ word.

Bucky gulped.

“It’s better this way, believe me,” he tried to reassure Steve. “At least till after high school.” He didn’t tack on the pessimistic _if we make it that long,_ to the end. He didn’t even think they’d last the month, but he was hopeful.

“Fine. But will you at least come to the game Friday night?” _Game. Oh. Football game. Ugh._ “I know, I know, you don’t like football, but I’d like to at least be able to see you in the stands, maybe, or at least after the game.”

Bucky put on his best supportive smile that was usually reserved for when Natasha dragged him along to one of her ballet recitals that she’d been preparing months for. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he answered. Steve smiled and leaned over to kiss Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky fought the urge to groan at the idea of sitting outside to watch a bunch of idiots run around and throw a ball. But one of those idiots was his boyfriend, so he supposed he’d better get used to it.

-x-

It was cold. Fucking _freezing_. He didn’t understand why people came and sat in these bleachers every single time there was a football game, no matter rain or shine, even if it was fourteen degrees outside. Which, coincidentally, it was. Bucky hated football, and more importantly, he hated himself for dating a football player.

He’d considered texting Steve before the game to tell him that his boss had forced him to pick up an extra shift at the diner he worked at, and he wouldn’t be able to make the game, but then he realized that he couldn’t be _that guy._ So with about as much enthusiasm as a wet kitten, he sat in the middle row, towards the middle of the bleachers, and tried to understand what was going on in the game. He tried to keep his eyes on Steve throughout the majority of the game, but it was difficult considering he _kept fucking moving._

After a while he stopped paying attention to the game itself, and just sort of stared blankly out at the field. He wanted to go home. It was too damn cold to be outside. He didn’t understand the excitement around him either; people went crazy every time something that Bucky didn’t care to understand happened. They kept standing up, screaming, and yelling out for certain numbers on the team.

 _Yeah, like they can hear you,_ Bucky wanted to snap at them. Especially the girl sitting in front of him who kept jumping up and down, yelling for one guy in particular. Maybe he was bitter because he knew that _number twenty three,_ was Daniel Parker, his last ex-whatever, but he’d never admit it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Natasha and Clint were working their way down his row, apparently spotting him in his seat. Natasha sat down next to Bucky and Clint sat next to her, his popcorn in his hand. Bucky fought the urge to groan. He wasn’t sure if Natasha and he were still angry at each other or not, considering they’d been ignoring each other since their confrontation during chemistry.

“You hate football,” Clint added.

“Yeah, well, I wanted some fresh air,” Bucky grumbled, not looking at Clint or Natasha. He knew both of them were giving him incredulous looks, of which he would have none of right now. He was miserable enough as it was.

“So, football team?” Clint asked, shoving a handful of over-buttered popcorn in his mouth.

“What?” Bucky asked, rubbing his cold hands together.  He regretted not bringing a pair of gloves.

“He’s on the football team?”

“You told _Barton_?” Bucky snapped at Natasha. If they hadn’t been in public, he was pretty sure he would have punched one of them. Or both. Probably both. “What the fuck, Nat?”

“Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, I was venting after you’d been so difficult earlier.”

“Why can’t you just mind your own damn business?”

“You know damn well why,” she shot back, and they were silent again. Clint sat on the other side of Natasha, still shoveling popcorn into his mouth, but not looking at the game. It was as if he’d bought the popcorn for the sole purpose of watching Bucky and Natasha fight. Which, admittedly, was more interesting than the football game. Bucky didn’t blame him; the few times that he and Natasha actually had gone at it, it was either extremely entertaining, or loud and angry. Somehow, they always ended up not hating each other at the end.

“I know who he is, anyways,” Natasha muttered after a few seconds, ignoring Clint’s exclamation of, _“What the fuck, who?”_ from next to her.

Bucky sighed and continued to look out at the game. Half time was soon. He wondered if he’d be able to see Steve then. Maybe he could pull him to the side so they could make out for a few minutes before the second half of the game. He didn’t know; he’d never been to a football game. Did the football players do anything during halftime? Or was that just like, the cheerleaders and the band.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You really like him?”

“Why the fuck else would I be here?”

Natasha laughed a little and nudged her shoulder into Bucky’s. He pretended to ignore it, but he couldn’t help the little smile that crossed his face.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said, as quiet as she could, considering all the screaming around them, which now included Clint, who had stood up and almost spilled all his popcorn, because… _something_ had happened. “I don’t want you hurt again. And don’t say you weren’t. Don’t say it was fine, don’t say… just don’t lie. Not to me. As much as you want to deny it to my face, you know that I know you. So just, be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

All Bucky did was nod. She smiled a little, and he smiled back. She left it alone after that.

-x-

Bucky sat through the rest of the game until halftime with Clint and Natasha, eating Clint’s popcorn even though he basically had to wrangle it out of his hands; when it came to food, Clint was a greedy motherfucker. Throughout the game, Clint had tried to explain to Bucky what was going on, but he still couldn’t understand to save his life. It was nice that he tried, though.

As soon as it was officially halftime, he shot up out of his spot on the bleachers and looked over to Natasha. “Save my spot?”

She nodded and took a handful of Clint’s popcorn. He wasn’t crazy enough to fight her off, no matter how hungry he apparently was. “You owe me some popcorn,” Clint said through a mouthful of popcorn. “I’ll settle for a hotdog, though.”

Bucky flipped him off as he walked down the bleachers. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going, but he knew he wanted to find Steve, if that was even a possibility. He made his way down to the bottom of the bleachers quick enough considering the mass exodus of people leaving to get food at the concession stand. He looked around, but didn’t see a single football player in sight. He assumed they’d made their way to the locker room to talk about game shit, or whatever it was they did during halftime.

Honestly, he was so clueless.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, though he didn’t mean to vocalize it.

“Something wrong?” He could barely hear over the commotion surrounding him, but he didn’t have to look to see who it was; he could tell by the English accent.

“I was just… looking for someone,” he said as Peggy walked a little closer to him. She was bundled up in a brown jacket and wore a matching beanie, but she was still wearing a skirt. She was insane. Bucky would die if his legs were exposed right now.  

“You don’t usually go to these things,” she observed.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, and didn’t make eye contact with her. He didn’t know Peggy all too well, but she was like Natasha in the way that she somehow always _knew_ when someone was hiding someone. Also, she was Steve’s ex. He knew if he were to be jealous of someone, it should be here, with her perfect curls and always flawless red lips, but he liked her too much to be jealous.

Plus, she was dating a cheerleader. At least, he thought she was. He saw her and Angie Martinelli walking through the hallways, hand in hand, always standing a little too close to just be friends, but he never asked. It wasn’t any of his business.

“I don’t blame you,” she said, pulling her jacket around her body a little tighter. “I only bother coming because Angie’s on the cheer team. I used to come for Steve, but once we broke up…” she trailed off, but then shrugged a little. She and Steve were still friends, which again, Bucky should have been jealous by, he guessed, but didn’t see any reason to be.

“Do you know where the football players go during halftime?” he asked, assuming she’d know considering she dated Steve for, what, a year? It was a rough estimate.

She gave him an almost knowing look, similar to the one Natasha had given him when she’d asked him which team Steve was on the other day, but much softer. It was still there, though, which made Bucky want to scream. “I’d assume the locker room.” The word _why_ was about to come out of her mouth, he knew it, so he shot her a soft smile and started to head off in the direction of the school.

“Thanks, Peggy!” he called back at her.

He made his way up to the school, navigating in and out of the crowd also making their way to the school. Most of them were trying to get out of the cold, he assumed. He didn’t blame them. Once he got inside he walked back towards the gymnasium; however, his plan ended there. He knew he wanted to see Steve before the second half of the game, but he didn’t know when they’d be coming out of the locker rooms, and he knew it’d look weird if he was just _waiting_ outside.

He grumbled to himself as he walked back out to the hallway and into the bathroom. He didn’t quite know what he was doing. He looked at himself in the mirror as he tried to formulate some sort of idea about how to see Steve before he had to go back out to the game. He found himself laughing a little in the reflection; he didn’t know how he’d become so entranced by some guy he barely knew. He wasn’t sure what it was about Steve that made him feel so different, or so happy, but whatever it was, he liked it. He liked Steve. He just didn’t know how Steve could like him.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror for longer than he normally did. He didn’t look seventeen. He’d been told for years that he’d looked older than he really was, but he always chocked it up to shitty genetics. The cold reality was it was circumstances. He didn’t know any other seventeen year old that had the dark circles under their eyes that he did from working two jobs.

No matter how shitty his life was now, it was better than having to spin stories that would help cover up the fact that his father would come home drunk and use him as a punching bag.

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the mirror. He never did like looking at himself for any longer than he had to.

After a while of waiting in the bathroom (with no one coming in, much to his luck) he heard the doors to the locker room slam open and the roar of football players making their way out of the doors. He hoped and prayed to a God he hadn’t believed in since he believed in Santa that none of them would come into the bathroom. Again, luck was with him. He could still hear the roar outside the bathroom. He was hoping his streak of luck would continue, and maybe he’d be able to catch Steve for a minute before the last half of the game.

He walked outside of the bathroom, to see the football players conjugating down the hallway. He leaned against the wall and squinted his eyes a little to see if he could catch sight of Steve; he was beyond glad that they’d kept their helmets off. They appeared to be in the middle of a pep talk thing, which Bucky didn’t know anything about. He didn’t even know if they were winning or not.

They hooped and hollered for a minute, and then broke apart. He assumed most of them would go outside to get something to eat or drink before the rest of the game, and then he realized Steve would probably go looking for him. _Shit._

Most of them walked in the other direction as he stood, and the ones that walked passed him said nothing. Steve just sort of shuffled his feet and started to follow the group that was going in the opposite direction as Bucky.

He started walking towards Steve, picking up the pace until he was right behind him. He was tempted to wrap his arms around him and surprise him, but then he remembered that there was the high chance that another football player could see them.

“Hey,” he tapped him on the shoulder instead. Steve turned to look at him, and almost instantly a wide smile crossed his face.

“Hey you,” he said. “I’m surprised you came.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you seemed pretty miserable about it,” Steve said, shrugging. They kept walking towards the outside doors.

Bucky felt like shit for being so obvious about not wanting to come. “Yeah, but I’m here. Are you winning?”

“Yeah, by seven points,” Steve answered. He didn’t seem too excited about it, he just shrugged. “I scored a touchdown.”

“You did?” For some reason Bucky felt an odd sense of pride that was followed with a not so odd sense of guilt. He had no idea. He was so busy being miserable that he had no idea his fucking boyfriend scored a goddamn touchdown.

_Great job, Barnes, you’re really great at this whole boyfriend thing. Really, A+._

“Yeah.” He talked as if he was telling Bucky the weather, in a monotone voice that sounded more miserable than excited, like someone would think he’d be.

“That’s great!” Bucky fought the urge to wrap his arms around him and kiss him. “I’m happy for you, that’s really—”

“Great?” Steve asked, his voice coy and almost snarky.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I mean it, that’s really awesome.”

“It’s no big deal,” Steve shrugged.

“Yes it is,” Bucky assured him. He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was behind them and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” he answered. He didn’t seem too happy about the game itself, but he seemed to be rather content with Bucky’s arms around his neck. After a second, Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s lips. His lips were soft and gentle against Bucky’s as he kissed him slow and soft, as if he didn’t have anywhere to go. Bucky wished he didn’t; he never wanted to stop kissing Steve. Bucky only pulled away after a few moments only for the fear of someone catching them.

“Will you wait for me after the game?” Steve asked, his hands holding Bucky’s sides.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky said, nodding his head. Steve smiled and leaned in to press his lips to Bucky’s again quickly before pulling away.

“I’ll see you after the game then.”

Bucky nodded and watched as Steve walked in the other direction, out to the football field. He desperately tried to ignore the way his heart wouldn’t stop beating a mile a minute.

-x-

Bucky tried to pay extra attention to the second half of the game. It helped that he decided to sit next to Peggy instead of Clint and Natasha, who were fighting over where to go after the game. After they’d parted, Bucky had made sure to make note of Steve’s jersey number. _Number nineteen. Number nineteen. Number nineteen._ He tried his hardest to follow him through the rest of the game, but he still didn’t understand, not even keeping in mind the mini football lesson Clint had given him.

“So,” Peggy started, and Bucky just _knew_ what was coming next. “Which one is it?”

“Goddammit, why does everyone thinking I’m sleeping with someone on the football team?” he snapped.

Peggy just laughed. “Because you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t,” she said, shrugging a little. “I don’t blame you, I’ve been there. Still there.” Angie, at the top of the pyramid, was thrown into the air, causing Peggy to stand up and clap.

“I can see that,” Bucky muttered once she sat back down. She smiled at him. He didn’t know why they weren’t closer. “I’m still not telling you,” he said after a moment or two. “Only reason Nat knows is because she’s a goddamn super sleuth.”

“It’s Steve, isn’t it?”

“Goddammit, does the entire fucking school know?”

She burst out laughing. He was actually worried she might double over and fall off her seat. The people next to them were starting to glare at her for laughing so hard. “He’s the only one on that bloody team that would’ve asked you to come. Most of them don’t even ask their girlfriends to come.”

He should have seen that coming. Steve and Peggy knew each other like Natasha and Bucky knew each other; it was only a matter of time before she figured it out. “Besides, Steve’s a horrible liar. I asked him if he was dating someone yesterday and he turned bright red and started stuttering. He would have told me if he was dating a girl.”

“So wait, did you know…?”

“That he was bisexual?” Peggy asked. She nodded, “Yes, I guess that was one of the best parts of our relationship.”

“What, that you were both bisexual?” Bucky asked. Peggy smacked his arm. _“Ouch.”_ He rubbed the spot on his arm where she’d slapped him. He thought she bruised him.

“No, that we were honest with each other. He told me, and it just so turned out that I happened to be bisexual as well,” she looked over at him. “If you want your relationship with him to last, I suggest being honest with him.”

Bucky grunted. “I don’t feel comfortable taking relationship advice from my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh, shut up,” Peggy said, nudging their knees together. “You two hiding your relationship isn’t going to end well, either.”

“And what do you expect us to do?” Bucky snapped, glaring at her now. He’d given up on trying to track Steve down on the field. “I’m assuming you know what his father’s like. He’s told me enough about him to know if we were ever…” he trailed off and shook his head. “We haven’t been dating _that_ long, anyways. It doesn’t matter.”

“Sounds like you have commitment issues,” Peggy observed.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just,” _fuck,_ why was he telling her anyways? He didn’t even know her that well. She just, she seemed like a good listener. Someone who knew and cared about Steve well enough to want to listen, at least. “Every other guy I’ve been with, if you can call it that, has ended things after less than two weeks. And Steve and I… we’ve only been dating officially for a few days. Not even a week. But we’ve known each other for almost a month, and… _god,_ I don’t know, I just keep expecting something to go awful.”

Why he spilled his guts like that, he had no idea, but Peggy still sat there and nodded, like she cared. Which, she looked as if she did. “Have you told him that?”

“Uh, no, because that would include telling him about all the assholes who…” he didn’t finish the sentence. “No, I haven’t.”

Peggy sighed, and gave him a sympathetic smile. “You should. I know Steve. I’ve told him things I didn’t think I could tell anyone else. I’ve told him things I’ve yet to tell Angie, I still tell him things. He’s a good listener, and he won’t judge you.” She paused a moment and tilted her head to the side. “It was your idea, wasn’t it? Keeping your relationship a secret.”

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want my shitty self to taint his golden boy image,” he grumbled.

Peggy sighed. “He wouldn’t see it that way. And I think you know that. You should talk to him, really.” Bucky didn’t respond. “It might help.”

“Fine,” Bucky muttered. He looked over to Peggy, who was looking at him with a soft, compassionate smile that he knew she reserved for people she really cared for. Considering she cared so much for Steve, he guessed that made him fit into that role by association.

“Thanks,” he said after a few moments.

“It’s nothing,” she responded, before turning her full attention to the football game. Or more likely, her girlfriend being tossed in the air.

-x-

Bucky had to admit that the cheerleaders were pretty awesome. The rest of the game went by much quicker considering he was sitting with Peggy. Every time Angie was thrown into the air or did some kind of backflip, Peggy was up out of her seat, cheering her on. Bucky wondered if she was like this when she went to these games as Steve’s girlfriend. He wasn’t sure how anyone could track any of the players’ movements and as for the announcers, the crowd was too damn loud for Bucky to even hear a word they were saying.

By the end of the game he’d managed to figure out that his team had won by fourteen points, and Steve had made another touchdown. The only reason he’d even figured that out is because Peggy had given him a play by play of what was going on whenever something had happened. He was glad that she understood what was going on, because he certainly didn’t.

At some point, a loud buzzer went off, and Peggy shot up in her seat and started cheering. Bucky looked up at her with wide, confused, eyes. “What happened?” Bucky asked.

Peggy looked over at Bucky with a wide smile on her face. She was still bouncing up and down a little bit, but Bucky wasn’t sure if that was because she was excited or cold. After a moment she returned her attention to the mass of idiots crowding around each other on the football field.

“Did they win?”

Peggy made a noise that Bucky took as “yes” before she started to make her way out of the bleachers. “Come on,” she called after, motioning with her hand for Bucky to follow her. He could almost hear the announcers in the background going on about how the home team had won, and something about a touchdown, but it was too loud for him to make anything out for sure. He followed Peggy down to where the cheerleaders were jumping up and down, excited that their team had won. Angie was surrounded by other cheerleaders, all smiling and talking about the game and the halftime show they’d performed at, but the second she saw Peggy, she broke away from the group.

“Hey, English,” she greeted her, almost tackling her with a hug. “How’d I do?”

“Wonderful, as always,” Peggy responded, hugging Angie back just as tight. They were doing that thing couples did when they were really into each other, where they’d just sorta look at each other and forget there were other people around them. Clint and Nat did it all the time. It was disgusting. Bucky was jealous.

He cleared his throat and Peggy looked over at him. “Oh, yes, Angie, this is Bucky, Steve’s boyfriend.”

“Peggy!” He felt his voice raise to an octave he wasn’t aware he could reach as he chastised her.

“What?” she asked, taking Angie’s hand. “Oh, it’s not like she’ll tell anyone.”

“Yeah, I’m great at keeping secrets.” Angie agreed with a nod. “It comes with being an actress and all.”

Bucky sighed and cupped his face in his hands. “Fine, just, don’t—”

 “—Tell anyone, yeah, I gotcha,” Angie finished his sentence, rolling her eyes as if it were a ridiculous request. Peggy seemed to think it was. So did Steve. Bucky was starting to think he was the only one who was sane.

“C’mon,” Peggy moved so she could take Bucky’s arm and loop it through hers, doing the same with Angie’s. “One of you is going to buy me some hot chocolate.”

-x-

As it turned out, Bucky ended up buying both Angie and Peggy hot chocolate as he waited outside the school for Steve. It was nice having someone to wait with, though, considering the amount of football players here that probably wanted to beat the shit out of him for some reason or another was unsettling. He knew none of them would try anything with Peggy and Angie around, though. Not only because between Peggy and him, they could probably take on at least a quarter of the football team at once, but Angie could very well spread some kind of rumor to make sure none of them would ever get laid again.

Even without that, it was nice having someone to talk to while waiting. They were both nice, and considering they both knew he was dating Steve, he thought it would be best to stay on their good sides. Just to be safe.

“How’d you meet him, anyways?” Angie asked as she sipped her hot chocolate. She was cuddled into Peggy’s side with her head nestled on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “I mean, you two don’t really…”

“What?”

“You don’t seem like you run in the same circles, ya know?” she answered, following with a shrug.

Bucky scoffed and leaned back on the bench the three of them were sharing. “You mean I hang out with druggie losers and Steve hangs out with people who look like they could be supermodels?”

“Sorta,” Angie answered. Bucky laughed a little and looked over at her. He liked her; she was funny, honest, and sweet. He could see why Peggy liked her. “But seriously, how’d you meet?”

That was one story Bucky wasn’t at all sure how he was supposed to tell. It wasn’t like he could just blurt out, _we kissed at a Stark party and then he ran off before I could figure out who it was. But hey, he figured out it was me he was kissing and then decided to ask me out for some fucking reason beyond my comprehension. And we’ve been together ever since._ It would be awkward, even for him.

“At a Stark party,” he answered, though he was uncomfortable. “But he didn’t ask me out until one day during lunch.” He would have done anything for them not to ask him about the party. For all he knows, they could have been there.

To his luck, Peggy just made a _hmm_ noise and nodded, and Angie put on a bright eyed smile in his direction. “So, how long have you been together?”

Bucky had to think. _Officially,_ they’d been dating for three days, but they’d known each other for twenty four days. So had they been together for a few days, or a little under a month? He had no idea. It was stupid how much he was overthinking it. Not just the question of how long they’d been together, but everything in their relationship. He chocked it up to never being in a real relationship before, really liking Steve, and not wanting to fuck up what they had.

Much to his luck, Steve came out of the doors of the locker room before he could answer. He stood up and waved a little bit so Steve could see where they were sitting; the second he did, he could tell Steve’s face lit up. It was strange that he had that effect on someone. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever understand it fully.

“Hey,” Steve greeted as he walked over to them. Bucky could tell he was fighting the urge to wrap his arms around him. Instead, he put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder for a second before looking over at Peggy and Angie, who were still cuddled up together on the bench. “How did you guys meet?”

“Uh, we were talking during the game,” Bucky answered. “‘Bout you, sorta.”

Peggy smirked and removed her hand from Angie’s hair, where she’d been playing with one of the wavy strands that had fallen from her high ponytail, and wrapped it around Angie’s waist. “I was giving him points on what to and not do when dating you. I thought he could use some pointers considering how difficult you are.”

“Wait, she knows?” Steve asked, confusion adamant on his face.

“It’s not like I told her. She guessed. And then she told Angie,” Bucky answered. He crossed his arms and looked down at the girls.

“Are you really surprised?” Peggy asked, though Bucky didn’t know why she bothered, considering she obviously knew the answer.

“No, not really. And _I’m_ not difficult, Miss We Can’t Have Pizza Tonight, We Had It Last Time We Went Out.”

“ _You’re_ calling _me_ difficult,” Peggy asked, feigning offense. “Bucky, you have _no_ idea what you’re getting into. Believe me, he’s terrible.”

Bucky was laughing at that point, along with Angie. Steve was looking at Peggy like he was going to throw something at her. “I hate you,” he grumbled at her, causing her to get up and press a kiss to his cheek.

“No you don’t.”

He rolled his eyes. Bucky and Angie were still laughing.

“C’mon, I’m taking you home before you two try to kill each other,” Angie interjected, taking Peggy’s hand in hers. “It was nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“Yeah, you too,” he answered, smiling at her a little. The two girls took off in the direction of what he assumed was Angie’s car, all while Steve was trying to rub off the red lipstick stain on his cheek.

“Good job with the game.” He really didn’t want Steve to know how little he was paying attention, even though he had tried in the second half. “You made a few touchdowns, right? That’s really am—”

Steve cut Bucky off by pressing his lips against Bucky’s. It was gentle, and sweet, but enough to shut Bucky up. For a moment, he let his arms wrap around Steve’s waist as they kissed, but then he remembered of the very real and scary possibility that someone could see them.

He pulled away from Steve’s lips, but couldn’t stop himself from leaning his forehead against Steve’s. A warm feeling washed over him; he smiled a soft smile, something about being with Steve made him feel safe. “Someone could see,” he whispered, not really caring as much when Steve brought his hand up to cup Bucky’s jaw, and rubbed little circles onto his cheek.

Steve made a small humming noise before responding. “I don’t care,” he whispered back. Bucky felt that same warm feeling wash over him again. Steve pressed his lips against Bucky’s again, and this time, Bucky didn’t care. He tried to rationalize that it was too dark for someone to see them, and that almost everyone had gone home, but he knew there was still such a high chance of someone seeing them. But as Steve kissed him, he felt too safe and in control to let go. He didn’t want to let go of that warm feeling that was crawling up and down his arms and legs and crashing like an ocean inside his stomach.

Once Steve pulled away, he pressed his forehead against Bucky’s again. There was something so intimate about being there with him; he’d been with more guys than he could count, and yet one of the most intimate moments he’d ever felt was in front of his school, with his forehead pressed against Steve’s.

“Do you want to come home with me?” Steve asked, his voice quiet and gentle, as if he could spook Bucky away. “My dad won’t be home until Sunday, I thought maybe you’d want to stay the night.”

Bucky leaned into Steve’s mouth and pressed another kiss to his lips, though he could feel himself smiling into the kiss. “Lead the way.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't updated in forever i am so sorry rip  
> also i'm upping the rating to E!!!

Just because Bucky couldn't be with Steve during school, or be together in all the normal public places most of the other teenagers went on dates, or to make out, didn't mean he didn't make sure he and Steve saw each other as much as possible. When Steve was one-hundred percent sure his father wouldn't be home, they'd go to his house and hang out. They'd do normal things couples would do; watch movies, make out in Steve's bed, play board games... Steve even tried to make Bucky dinner one night, even though he ended up burning it and they ended up ordering Chinese.

            "Shut up!" Steve said through his own laughter, giving Bucky a playful shove into the couch. "I never learned how to cook. I took Home Ec. as a filler class, and all we did was watch videos with a talking toaster!"

            Bucky snorted and pulled Steve down with him onto the couch. "Aw, you poor thing," he joked, leaning up to press a kiss to his boyfriend's lips. Their relationship felt less and less like an enigma for Bucky as the weeks went on. It was turning into something Bucky didn't doubt anymore.

            "I wanted to do something nice for you," Steve pouted, his head resting against Bucky's chest. "Like, a pre-Valentine's Day dinner."

            Bucky expected a part of him to freak out over the talk of Valentine’s Day. Especially the thought of spending it with someone else he was actually  _with_ instead of in a back alley of some dive bar getting fucked by some guy whose name he'd forget. If he ever knew it in the first place. But the idea of spending it with Steve was... nice. He liked it.

            "You know you don't have to do anything for me on Valentine's Day," Bucky responded, his hand rubbing Steve's back. He said it half because he had no idea what he should get Steve himself, and half because even if he knew, he had no money to buy him anything.

            "Yeah, I know. But I want to," Steve said with a shrug. "We've been together for almost a month, and I just wanted to do something special."         

            Bucky smiled and hugged Steve close to him. Previous to dating Steve, the nicest thing a guy had ever done for him was sucking him off without expecting anything in return.

            Also, sometimes his drug dealer gave him free weed. Coke, too, if it's a holiday. She was nice like that.

            "So, what special thing do you have in mind, then?" Bucky asked, reveling in being able to be alone with Steve. He loved the occasional Saturday or Sunday when he had off and Steve's dad was working. They could have Steve's house to themselves and pretend that hiding their relationship didn't suck. 

            Steve shrugged. "I dunno. Obviously a romantic dinner is out of the question," Steve said, both of them chuckling. "We could go out to eat? We can go somewhere a few towns away. No one else around here is going to go anywhere too far away."

            Bucky snorted. "Yeah, most of the assholes around here aren't going to bother leaving their bedrooms."

            Steve laughed and leaned in to kiss Bucky's lips. "I don't blame them," he muttered, sliding his lips against Bucky's once again. Bucky didn't have time to process Steve's comment, because before he could even consider processing, Steve's tongue pressed between his lips.  He couldn't think about anything other than kissing him back.

            After the first time they'd made out in Bucky's apartment and Steve turned down his sexual advancements there was a part of Bucky that was afraid that maybe Steve didn't want him like that, which freaked him the fuck out. He'd never been with someone where sex wasn't them main, if not the only, element of the relationship. The idea that someone wouldn't find him attractive was horrifying to him. It wasn't because he was vain, not by a long shot, but because  _someone_ had to think he looked beautiful, even if it wasn't him. 

            Since then, Steve had proved that wasn't the case. While they'd yet to actually have sex, they made out whenever they found the opportunity. Whether it was in the back of Bucky's car during lunch, behind the bleachers during free period, in Steve's bedroom when his father wasn't home, or on Bucky's ratty couch, they took every opportunity they could. They'd never gone beyond that, though. The closest thing they'd gotten to anything sexual was kissing shirtless on Steve's bed and Bucky cupping Steve through his pants behind the bleachers before his football practice.

            Bucky didn't mind though. He'd always thought that he wouldn't be able to be with someone if there wasn't sex, but with Steve, he couldn't care less if they never had sex. Just  _being_ with him was good enough for him.

            However, if they  _did_ happen to have sex at some point, Bucky wouldn't complain. At all. Not even a little.

            He moaned as Steve moved from his mouth to his neck, biting down gently and leaving him with a bruise. The nice thing about having the slut label thrust upon him was Steve didn't have to worry about hickeys. He could go into school with his neck covered in light bruises left by Steve's teeth and the only people that knew they came from the same person were Clint, Natasha, and Steve himself.

            Bucky raised his hips up to grind up against Steve's, causing Steve to moan against Bucky's neck. Bucky loved listening to Steve moan, it was one of the most beautiful noises he'd ever heard; he couldn't get enough.

            "Fuck," Steve muttered, leaning down and pressing his lips against Bucky's again, moving a hand down under Bucky's shirt to rest against his warm skin. "I love you," Steve whispered, kissing him again before Bucky could respond.

            Even if Bucky wanted to respond, he  _couldn't_ respond. His mouth wasn't working, he wasn't even able to kiss Steve back properly. It was like his body went completely limp and he was unable to move, or to make his lips form words. He started to wonder if something was seriously wrong with him, but he knew there wasn't. It was just,  _fuck,_ Steve loved him. He'd even said it straight to his face.

             _Fuck_. Bucky couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything but freak the hell out because  _fuck,_ Steve loved him. He didn't know how to respond; didn't know how to say it back. Because of  _course,_ he wanted to say it back. Because he did. He loved him.

            God, he loved him so much. He loved the way he smiled, the way his blue eyes lit up a room, the way he wrapped his arms around him while they were watching a movie, the way he'd play with his hair and tell him he was beautiful. He'd been in love before—or at least, he thought he'd been in love before—with assholes who didn't give him the time of day and used him for sex and then disregarded him at the end of the day. But  _Steve,_ Steve was here telling him that he was in love with him, looking down at him with huge eyes that Bucky thought could do no wrong.

            At least, in comparison to him.

            "Buck? Are you okay?"

            "I—"

             _Shit._ He still couldn't talk. There was something about saying it out loud that scared the shit out of Bucky. It made him realize just how  _real_ they were. It was incredibly scary, and  _fuck._ Bucky couldn't breathe. 

            The doorbell rang a few seconds later. Bucky had never been so happy for Chinese food before in his live.

-x-

            Steve picked Bucky up around seven for their Valentine's Day date. Everything had been semi-awkward, if not somewhat normal for the next week until the day. Bucky knew it was because of his inability to return Steve's confession of love. Nonetheless, he was grateful to Steve that he didn't bring up the whole  _Bucky's unable to say "I love you" back because he's emotionally constipated_ fiasco.

            Bucky was still excited for their date, considering that Valentine's Day would be the first he'd actually spent with someone who gave a shit about him, instead of drunk off his ass in some skeevy bar, or wearing some gross Valentine's Day themed outfit while waiting tables.

            Steve drove them to a little diner three towns over, where he was certain no one from their school would be going, even though it was Valentine's Day. The diner was reminiscent of a 50's diner, sorta like the one in Grease (another movie Steve made him watch, which he ended up loving).

            They took their seats in a secluded booth off to the corner and Bucky was happy that there was hardly anyone in the diner. He was surprised, considering it seemed to be a nice place, and it was Valentine's Day and all, but nonetheless, he was happy. Steve reached over and took his hand, holding it across the table. Bucky didn't have to worry about anyone catching them and freaking out.

            It was a relief.

            "I'm glad we're doing this," Bucky said as Steve ran his finger over his hand. "Really, we never get to go out on real dates. This is nice."

            Steve smiled and nodded, giving Bucky's hand a squeeze. "We should do this more often."

            They were having a good night, so Bucky didn't mention that even if they were to drive three towns away for their dates every so often, eventually Steve's dad would get pissed off that he was spending so much time out of town.

            "Yeah, we should."

            They flipped through the menu for the next few minutes in a companionable silence before their waitress came over. She was a sweet old lady who looked like she could've been ninety, if not older. She commented on what a cute couple they were, and how her grandson was gay, and had the cutest boyfriend in the world. She proceeded to pull out her wallet and show them pictures of her grandson and his boyfriend.

            Steve thanked her and made a few polite comments on the pictures. Bucky bit his lip to hold back laughter.

            "See, not everyone is terrible and homophobic," Steve said after they ordered, holding back his own laughter.

            Bucky let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Do you really want to do this right now?" he asked, giving Steve a look that he was hoping conveyed how much he was  _not_ in the mood for this conversation yet again.

            "Fine, you're right," Steve said, putting a hand up in surrender and threading his fingers with Bucky's. "I just hate that you have such a negative outlook on life."

            Bucky bit his tongue so he wouldn't say something about how it was hard to have a positive outlook on life when his life had, so far, been a grade A steaming pile of shit.

            "Well, I'm positive that I'm starving," Bucky said, changing the subject in the best way he could. Steve rolled his eyes in an endearing way, which made Bucky smile.

            He was really glad they were doing this.

            Their food came not too long after Bucky's comment about how hungry he was. They'd both ordered burgers, fries, and a milkshake, and the second Bucky saw his food his stomach growled so loud he was sure the nice old waitress, who had already walked at an alarmingly fast speed for someone who could've been his great grandmother across the diner.

            "God, this looks so good," Bucky muttered, grabbing his burger and taking a huge bite. He didn't even bother to take off the pickles from the burger, and he  _hated_ pickles.

            Steve smiled at him from across the table like he was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen in his life as he ate his fries.  _God,_ only Steve would find his disgusting eating habits cute. Bucky continued to eat his burger, probably a little too fast, but he was starving. He hadn't been able to eat today, mostly because he'd been working from six in the morning until four, and on his lunch break he'd just snorted coke in the bathroom instead of eating.

            It seemed more important at the time.

            Plus, he didn't have any food at his apartment, and he didn't really have money for groceries or fast food, so he supposed he'd just wait until that night when he went out with Steve. He was just glad that Steve had already told him he'd pay. Sometimes he felt guilty for the fact that Steve always paid for their take out, or the occasional time they did go out to eat, but then again, Bucky couldn't protest too much. Sometimes it felt like he had a million bills, all piling down on him at once.

            'You have mustard on your lip," Steve mentioned as Bucky finished off his burger.

            "How long has it been there?"

            "Since you took your first bite, I just didn't want to interrupt you to tell you. Honestly, I was getting a little jealous of the burger."

            Bucky choked on his milkshake.

            "Thanks for that," Bucky grumbled through a choked cough, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth. Steve just laughed at him.

            "Asshole."

-x-

            After they ate and Steve paid, leaving a generous tip for Ethel (the nice old PFLAG granny/waitress) and promising her they'd come back, they made their way out to Steve's car, their hands swinging between them the entire time.

            As they approached Steve's car, Bucky got the sudden feeling in his stomach that  _fuck,_ he didn't want this night to end. He couldn't help but to voice the feeling, because it was so overwhelming that he couldn't contain himself.

            "I don't want this night to end," he told Steve, just as he'd thought in his head.

            Steve smiled at him and wrapped his arms around Bucky's shoulders, leaning in and locking lips with his. It was gentle and chaste, like their lips were barely touching; sometimes Bucky loved those kisses more than the hot and heavy kisses that made him wanting more.

            "You want to go back to my house?" Steve asked, his arms falling to Bucky's waist. "My dad's out of town again this week. I know for sure he won't be back until Tuesday," Steve gave Bucky's side a gentle squeeze and leaned in to kiss him again. "We'll have the entire place to ourselves all weekend."

            Bucky's stomach lurched at that idea; the familiar mixture of butterflies and bees buzzing around in his stomach as they so often did when he was around Steve. He knew what Steve was implying; he wasn't sure if it was his words, the way he was holding him, or the fact that it was Valentine's Day, or a mixture of both. He wasn't quite sure if he cared.

            "We don't have to if you don't want to," Steve backtracked, obviously taking Bucky's hesitation as a denial. "We can drive around a while, or just go back to my place and watch a movie. I can drive you home after—"

            Bucky cut him off mid ramble. Steve was adorable when he went on and on like that. They kissed again, though not quite as chaste as last time. Steve's hands tightened on Bucky's waist, causing Bucky to shiver a little bit. He loved being in Steve's arms; it was one of the only things that made him feel safe.

            "Let's go," Bucky said as he pulled away, a small smile on his face.

            Steve smiled back at him and pressed another kiss to his lips before opening the door for him and walking around to the driver's side of the car. Bucky wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he was nervous as hell about spending the night at Steve's house. He'd never actually  _spent_ the night at a guy’s house. After the sex he was always either kicked out or he bolted.

            This was different though. He knew Steve wasn't going to kick him out, and he had absolutely no intention of bolting. He was starting to feel a little more excited than nervous, than anything.

-x-

            As soon as they made it into the house, Steve had Bucky pressed up against the front door and was kissing him senseless. Bucky felt as if Steve was trying to either drain the life from him, or breathe life into him. Either way, he wasn't complaining.

            If it wasn't for the fact that this was their first time, Bucky would have begged Steve to go ahead and fuck him right then and there against the door.

             _Another time, maybe. Probably. Definitely._

            He wanted this to be special, though. Very seldom had he actually given a shit about the guy that was fucking him—the times he did didn't necessarily end so well either—so very seldom did he want the sex to be more than sex. This was different than all of that, though. This was  _Steve._ He wanted everything to be perfect. In the back of the mind he wished he would have thought up some elaborate First Time Scheme so it would be super romantic, but, well, Bucky sucked at romance.

            Steve had no problem hoisting Bucky up against the door as they were kissing; Bucky guessed one of the advantages of Steve being a football player was that he was strong as hell, and could probably bench press Bucky himself.

            "Upstairs?" Steve managed to say, pulling away from Bucky's lips for a moment.

            Bucky nodded and made a  _mom_ noise in answer as he clashed his lips against Steve's again. Steve hoisted him up again so Bucky was forced to grab onto him so he wouldn't fall. He laughed and grasped onto Steve and leaned down so his face was cradled in the crook of his neck for a moment.

            "You're ridiculous, you know that?" he muttered as Steve carried him upstairs to his bedroom. Steve just smiled and squeezed on tighter to Bucky, capturing his lips in another kiss once Bucky removed his face from the crook of his neck.

            Once they were in Steve's room, Steve let him down on the bed and almost immediately climbed on top of him. He made a humming noise and kissed Bucky's nose before quietly whispering, "Hi."

            "You're a nerd," Bucky said through laughter, sitting up on his knees to wrap his arms around Steve's shoulders again.

            "Nah, that's you," Steve answered, his hands finding Bucky's shirt and starting to pull it over his head. This part was nothing new; they'd made out shirtless countless of times, but knowing what was to come was what was giving Bucky the butterflies and bees in his stomach.

            Steve's shirt was off next, landing next to Bucky's next to the bed. He crawled up onto the bed and pushed Bucky down, leaning in to press kisses to his neck, his chest, down to the top of his jeans. He looked up at Bucky as if to make sure he wanted this, one-hundred percent wanted this, and instead of yelling  _for fuck's sake of course I do,_ Bucky just nodded.

            Steve pulled off Bucky's jeans throwing them to the side with the other disregarded clothing. He began to mouth at Bucky's already partially erect cock through his boxers, causing Bucky to moan loudly and throw his head back a little.

            "Fuck, warn a guy," Bucky muttered, Steve still mouthing at his dick through his boxers.

            "Alright. Warning: I'm going to suck your dick now," Steve said, pulling Bucky's boxers off and throwing them to the side as well.

            "Thanks for the warning," Bucky half murmured/half moaned as Steve took him into his mouth. A string of curses came out of Bucky's mouth as he watched Steve's mouth bob up and down Bucky's dick, his hand wrapped around what wasn't in his mouth. Steve's eyes were wide open, staring up at Bucky with what he  _swore_ was a grin on his face.

            "How the fuck do you grin while sucking dick?" Bucky muttered, moaning and throwing his head back, his hand grasping at Steve's hair.

            Steve pulled away and smirked at Bucky. "Practice?"

            "Fuck off," Bucky moaned, coaxing Steve's mouth back down to his dick. Bucky's eyes fluttered shut as Steve continued to suck him off. All he could feel was Steve's hot mouth around his dick, sucking and licking like it was the most important thing in the world.

            After another minute or so, Steve pulled away and moved himself up Bucky's body, pressing his lips against his boyfriend's again. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's back and held him tight as they kissed. He'd had sex with dozens of guys before; had them suck him off and then kiss him like they wanted to fuck him just like Steve was now, but this was different. He'd never felt so close to anyone else ever in his life. He felt as if he were losing his virginity all over again.

            Except this time, instead of some guy who got him drunk when he was barely fourteen, it was someone he was in love with.

            God, did he love him.

            "Do you wanna do this?" Steve asked, looking Bucky in the eye.

            Bucky nodded vigorously. He'd never wanted anything more. "Yes, yeah, definitely," he said while still nodding.

            Steve smiled and kissed him once more before leaning over and opening the top drawer of his nightstand, pulling out lube and a condom.

            "Well you're prepared," Bucky joked, propping himself up on his arm.

            "This isn't my first time with another guy, babe," Steve said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Bucky's lips. "Just the first time that mattered."

            Bucky blushed a little and smiled at Steve as he pulled back and pulled down his pants and underwear, tossing them to the side with Bucky's. He leaned back in a moment after and pushed Bucky back onto his back before opening the lube and pouring it onto his fingers.

            Steve leaned in and kissed Bucky as he pressed his first finger inside him. Bucky took a breath and adjusted quickly; like Steve, this wasn't his first time, just the first that mattered.

            Steve took his time with his first finger before adding a second, causing Bucky to moan gently as he started to move them. No one had ever taken so much time in working him open, and frankly, it was driving him crazy. He was pretty sure that was Steve's intention.

            "Fuck, Steve, hurry up," Bucky groaned, his hands clawing at the sheets. "You're driving me batshit."

            "We have all night, baby," Steve whispered, his voice a little deeper than normal. "What's your rush?"

            "I want your dick inside me, that's my goddamn rush."

            Steve chuckled and leaned in to kiss Bucky, or more likely, shut him up. He fucked him gently with his two fingers for a little while longer before adding a third. Bucky wasn't sure how much he could take by this point.

            "Fuck," Bucky muttered, feeling Steve's spare hand rub against his side. "Fuck, I'm ready. Please,  _God,” he_  practically begged.

            Steve smiled and nodded, removing his fingers. Bucky propped himself up on his elbows as he watched Steve slip on a condom and grab more lube.

            "Hey, Steve?"

            "Hmm?"

            Bucky smiled at him. Steve's eyes were filled with such light and brightness, it made Bucky feel like his heart was on fire. Normally he'd hate the feeling; it would mean another heartbreak. Someone else to come along and throw him into more of an endless pit of depression than before. But Steve... Steve was different. He trusted him. For the first time in the longest time, he actually trusted someone with his whole life.

            "I-I, uh. I love you."

            Steve grinned bright and wide before leaning in and pressing his lips against Bucky's. "I love you too."

            Steve fucked slowly Bucky against Steve's bed with their foreheads pressed against each other, Steve holding Bucky against his body and whispering how much he loved him into his ear. Bucky felt like he was on fire; for once, being close to someone wasn't going to hurt him.

            Once they'd both came, and Bucky was essentially a useless blob laying with his head on Steve's chest, he realized that for the first time, he wouldn't wake up to an empty bed after getting fucked senseless. It would be the first time he'd actually get to spend the night after going home with a guy. It was little, insignificant things, like this that made Bucky warm inside when it came to his relationship with Steve.

            The best thing of all, however, was the way Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky as he slept, as if he'd never let him go.

-x-

            The next morning, Bucky woke up in Steve's arms, just as he'd hoped. Neither of them bothered to get up for some times, just lying in each other’s arms, talking about little things that didn't really matter. Once they did get up, they took a shower together—which was another thing Bucky had never done, but was really glad he did, because shower sex was just as great as Natasha told him it was—ate breakfast, and then Steve gave Bucky a ride home.

            The only reason Bucky didn't stay the entire day was because Steve had football practice later that day, and they both knew he could miss it again. Steve dropped him off at his apartment, getting out of the car with him and giving him a hug before Bucky turned to go inside.

            "Hey, Buck?" Steve called before Bucky went to go inside.

            "Hm?" Bucky asked, turning around to look back at his boyfriend.

            "Nothing I just... Thanks for last night. It was great and I just, uh," Steve stopped awkwardly, blushing a little and smiling. Bucky shook his head and walked towards Steve again, wrapping his arms around him once more and kissing him gently. He felt Steve smile into the kiss; he loved it.

            "I love you," he said once he pulled away. "Call me later, okay?"

            Steve nodded and pressed a quick kiss to Bucky's cheek before turning to get into his car. Bucky waved as he got in and started to drive away, before he turned and went up to his apartment. For once, he wasn't disgusted at the idea of going back to his disgusting apartment, mostly because he had the memories of the previous night to keep him company.

            Upon arriving to his floor and walking to his door, he noticed his door was slightly opened.  _Fuck, Natasha_. He pushed his door open and walked in, "Goddammit, Natasha, can't you get your own goddamn coke—?"

            He stopped once he walked in and saw who was really in his apartment. He gulped and felt his body start to shake a little. He felt sick.

            "Dad."

 


End file.
